


A Lesson in Distance Romantics

by dolly_dagger87



Series: A Series of Romantic Lessons [2]
Category: Band of Brothers, The Pacific (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolly_dagger87/pseuds/dolly_dagger87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“We’ll figure it out,” Webster said. “We will test the limits of my parent’s long distance plan. We’ll text, we’ll email, and we’ll figure it out.”</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is the story of how David Webster and Joseph Liebgott figure it out. A sequel to <i>A Lesson in Summer Romantics.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

In a weird way, it was almost like summer camp. And at the same time, it was nothing like summer camp. He wasn’t excited to be here, here being the Taft School, a boarding school in Watertown, Connecticut. But he was in a new place, duffle over his shoulder, and there was some familiarity to be found in that. The lawn in front of the school was also filled with cars dropping off students. These aren’t the happy families of summer camp, these are his people. These students are pulling luggage from the backs of cabs, town cars, and limousines. These are the children of wealthy parents who have no idea how to raise them. That should be comforting, everyone was in his boat, but it wasn’t. It made him sad to know that there are enough of them to populate a whole school.

  
He straightened the tie of his uniform when he got to the admittance desk. He was not greeted by someone as warm and inviting as Lip. It was a stern elderly woman that told him he was in CPT, room 64. Since he’d researched this, he knew CPT stood for Charles Phelps Taft. It was a dorm, one of the three boys’ dorms on campus. There were also three girls’ dorms, but Webster had no interest in those, even if he hadn’t been warned that it was forbidden for him to go over there. He was not overly interested in the boys’ dorms either. He was here to do his time, get though the school year, get good grades, and go back to summer camp. Friends were not going to happen here among his cynical and jaded peers.

  
When he got to his room, it was empty. Well, not empty in the sense that there was nothing there, but empty in that there were no signs of life. There were two twin beds, one on each side of the room. The one in front of the door had a messenger bag on it and while the bed was made, the sheets were ruffled. Webster took that to mean the bed by the window was his. There was also an empty desk on his side of the room so he claimed that too.

  
It was then that he noticed that his roommate had already filled the two shelves built into his desk. A lot of books was a good sign, Webster thought as he approached the desk. The tastes of his roommate seemed varied, but in a way that made sense. There was Kipling, Yates, Milton, and somewhat surprisingly, Catcher in the Rye. His roommate also seemed to be a fan of Christopher Hitchens, Richard Dawkins, and Sam Harris. Well, at least Webster wouldn’t have to worry about his roommate dragging him to services every Sunday. Webster supposed that he should thank heaven for small favors.

  
He’d just returned to his own unpacking when the door to his room opened, bouncing a little off the wall. The boy, clearly his roommate since he had been able to unlock the previously locked door, had wild curly hair and a reckless smile on his face.

  
“Ah, so you are the poor son of bitch who got stuck rooming with me?” His blue eyes seemed to be dancing so Webster thought he was joking.

  
“I guess so,” Webster said as he resumed unfolding the stack of sheets on his bed, muscle memory from summer camp taking over.

  
“Leckie,” the boy said, sitting down on his bed.

  
“Webster,” Webster replied as he folded the sheet the way Grant had taught them. When he looked up, Leckie was looking through the books that were on top of his duffel.

  
“Eww,” he said, holding out Les Miserables by the corner with only two fingers. Webster rolled his eyes and took the book. “Oh Vonnegut, I suppose you can stay.”

  
“You can thank my boyfriend for that one,” Webster said as he unfolded his comforter. He couldn’t remember ever actually calling Joe that. Mostly because he wasn’t sure how it would be received, but he used it to third parties because he liked to.

  
“Oh, so that’s what you’re in for,” Leckie said, sitting on Webster desk.

  
“In for,” Webster repeated. It wasn’t really a question. Webster was just surprised that he wasn’t the only one describing this place like a prison.

  
Leckie took it as a question. “Yeah, what you did that made mommy and daddy stop loving you enough that they shipped you off to live with me.”

  
Webster shook his head. “That’s not what I’m in for. They don’t know about the boyfriend.”

  
“Should probably keep it that way. I figured that’s what got you kicked out of military school,” Leckie said, flipping through Webster’s copy of Lord of the Flies.

“Military school?” Now Webster was actually confused.

  
“Yeah, you make your bed like we have to pass some kind of inspection,” Leckie said.

Webster shook his head. He knew Grant hadn’t gone to military school, but he had a suspicion he knew who had. “I learned it in summer camp, we had to pass some kind of inspection. So we don’t here?”

  
“Well, they toss us for drugs, booze, and shit,” Leckie said. “But they don’t give a fuck how you make your bed. So what are you really in for?”

  
“I picked a college near my boyfriend and it’s not Harvard,” Webster replied.

  
“So in a roundabout way, you are in here for the boyfriend,” Leckie said. “Hope he’s fucking worth it.”

  
Webster decided it was best not to reply to that. He could already tell that if he said Joe was, then Leckie would never let him live it down. Webster figured romance and Leckie had long since parted terms and agreed to see other people. “So what are you in for?” Webster asked, figuring that was a safer line of questioning.

  
“Graduating middle school,” Leckie said, setting down Webster’s book on the desk before walking back to his bed and flopping down on it. “The rest of my disagreeable personality traits developed in their absence.”

  
Indifferent parents. Webster had bonded with someone over that subject before. Sitting on the porch, trying dry out after an afternoon spent in the lake.

  
“No one deserves parents that don’t give a shit,” Webster said, repeating the words that Joe had said that he’d taken comfort in.

“Maybe not,” Leckie said, “but we got a whole fucking school of ‘em.”

  
Well, Webster thought, at least I’m among my people.   
  
  


*~*

Joe was pretty sure he was going to hate his Trig teacher for the rest of the year because what kind of sadistic ass hat gives out homework on the first day? It wasn’t so much that he hated math as it was that he hated homework. If given the choice he probably wouldn’t do it, but he’d done the math. If he skipped all the homework and got all A’s on the tests, he’d fail. So he’d do the damn homework, but he wasn’t going to be happy about it. He had just finished the first problem when his phone buzzed next to him on the bed. It was Web which meant he got moved in. The fact that Web’s classes started a day after Joe’s was also not something Joe saw himself getting over anytime soon.

“I didn’t know they’d let you keep your cellphone in prison,” Joe said, balancing his phone on his shoulder so he could keep doing his homework.

“See, it’s the same phone I would use to call my jailers, so they let me keep it,” Web replied.

“And how are the parental units doing?”

“Fuck if I know, I called you first,” Web replied.

“As you should,” Joe said, trying to cover the fact that it meant something that Web had called him first.

Web laughed on the other end of the phone. That was a good sound. Joe liked that sound.

“So how’s the roommate?”

“He’s not completely repellent,” Web said.

“Wow. Ok, that’s good,” Joe said, trying not to sigh into the phone. “Maybe he’ll grow on you.”

“Yeah, the same way a rash does,” Web said. “I’m pretty sure you don’t want me and Leckie becoming friends. The only way that ends up is me being treated for situational depression.”

“It’s bound to happen sooner or later since he is your cellmate,” Joe said.

“Could we not with the prison analogies? They were funny over the summer, but now that I’m here, they feel a little too real,” Web said.

“You’re going to hate it there, aren’t you?” Joe said, abandoning his homework and returning his hand to his phone.   

“I don’t know,” Web said, sounding very unsure. “I mean, my parents aren’t here and that’s a plus. Course you aren’t so…you know.”

“Aww, do you miss me already?” Joe said it in a mocking, teasing voice, but he wasn’t going to pretend that didn’t make him feel good that Web was missing him. It made Joe feel better about missing Web in return.

“Yeah, I do. I mean, if you were here, I’d get no work done and probably end up failing half my classes, but I still wish you were here,” Web replied with no teasing, no mocking. Just Web being honest.

“Hey, I’d totally let you study,” Joe said.

“Would you now?” Web asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, because it’s important to you,” Joe said, not wild about the fact that he had to say that out loud. He figured that maybe that should have been something Web just knew.  

“You’d still be distracting as hell,” Web said, and that made Joe smile. “It might be nice though, having this twin bed to myself. So roomy, I won’t wake up in the middle of the night with someone elbowing me in the rib cage.”

“Oh, fuck you.” There was no real heat in his voice, merely teasing.

“Well, that is something we haven’t tried before,” Web replied.

“No...fuck you…no, you can’t say shit like that unless you are prepared to have phone sex,” Joe said.

“Joe-”

“I know you don’t want to,” Joe said, cutting Web off because he did not want to have this conversation again. “But if you’re not, there are going to have to be some ground rules. Rule number one being no turning something I say into something sexual. Because it’s not fair and I would really like to fuck you.”

And after the words were out of his mouth, he realized he probably shouldn’t have said them. They’d had this conversation. More then once. And Web wasn’t ready and Joe could understand that. Because everyone thinks more about losing their virginity before they actually do. And admittedly, probably nobody envisions that happening on a blanket behind the archery targets. So he wasn’t trying to pressure Web, but that just then probably made it sound like he was.

“I shouldn’t have said that. That was an asshole thing to say,” Joe said because he always wanted to hang up the phone with the air completely clear because that’s how they ended up fighting. And it was August and simply too early for that shit. “That sounded like pressure and it wasn’t. Just the first thing that came out of my mouth.”

“It’s ok,” Web said. “And I really mean it’s ok. It’s just, I am currently sitting on the fire escape so that my roommate won’t hear my end of the conversation. So the mood is kinda dead on this end of the phone.”

“We have got to get your roommate a hobby or a school club. Just you know, something to get him out of the room,” Joe said.

“Yeah, Leckie doesn’t strike me as a joiner,” Web said. “But starting on Tuesday, he does have his mandated visits with the school counselor. So that gives us an hour once a week.”

“Your roommate has mandated visits with the school shrink?” Joe was a little surprised that hadn’t come up before.

“It’s not that weird,” Web replied. “When I was in fifth grade, my parents sent me to a therapist because I was lying to them. See, rather than trying to parent, they farmed it out to someone else. So there might be something wrong with Leckie that a psychiatrist could help with. And it might just be that his parents want find something wrong with him so it’s not their fault their kid is a little strange. I don’t know, it’s too early to tell.”

“Or not just like his older brother,” Joe said, knowing they were talking about Web as much as they were talk about his roommate.

“Or that,” Web said. “Now go hug your parents because they are better than mine.”

“My mom still hasn’t come around yet,” Joe said.

“She will,” Web said, sounding more confident then Joe felt. “She loves you, she’ll come around.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, ok?” Joe said, not bothering to start that argument again.

“Ok,” Web said. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Joe said before he hung up the phone. He didn’t say ‘I love you’ because he wasn’t sure he knew what that was. And he was sure he shouldn’t be saying it out loud if he didn’t.


	2. Two

 

Joe sat at the diner a couple blocks from his house. It was pretty dead considering it was Labor Day weekend; most everyone had gone for the beach. And Joe maybe had plans for that, but first he had to meet his best friend for lunch. And he wasn’t going to lie, he was kinda ridiculously excited about it. Joe was sixteen years old and he was smart enough to know that most nineteen year olds wouldn’t want to hang out with someone his age. Yet two days ago, Grant had sent him a text:

 

_Going to be in your city Labor Day weekend. Want to grab lunch?_

 

And yeah, of course he does because he’s never had an older brother before and Grant seemed to fill that role without being asked. So when Grant walks in, Joe decided to rip into him over his Dodgers hat rather than make this a big deal.

 

“You really wore that hat into my city?” Joe said as Grant sat down in the vinyl booth across from him.

 

“I wore this because I was coming to your city,” Grant said. “And I knew it would annoy you.”

 

“You’ll be lucky to make it back to Stanford in one piece,” Joe said.

 

“Pretty sure I can handle it,” Grant said, smiling at him.

 

The waitress came over then. Cokes were ordered and cheeseburgers with fries.

 

“So how’s junior year treating you?” Grant asked as he stirred his Coke with his straw.

 

Joe knew he made a face, but he couldn’t help it. “I want to light my English teacher on fire,” Joe said.

 

“Ok,” Grant replied, visibly fighting back laughter. “Do me a favor and fight that impulse, would you?”

 

“It’s the Scarlet Letter. I don’t think I can,” Joe said.

 

Grant seemed to consider this. “Ok agreed, that book sucks, but you know somebody who’s probably read it and might even have enjoyed it.”

 

“Are you offering?” Joe asked.

 

“No, I’m offering next year when you have to take Pre-Calc. The Scarlet Letter is Web’s wheelhouse, so why not ask your boyfriend for help? Web genuinely likes talking about books. I doubt you’ll have a hard time getting him to explain symbolism to you.”

 

Joe groaned because he couldn’t take hearing that word one more damn time. “Because my boyfriend has a lot on his plate,” Joe replied. “Because every time he’s got a project or paper or a test and I feel like shit asking him to hold my hand while I read a book.”

 

“See, I think you might have landed on two things Web isn’t opposed to, hand holding and book reading,” Grant said, smiling.

 

“Shut up,” Joe replied, because that sounded exactly like something Web would ask him to do and like something Joe would rather not.

 

“I get that you’re worried about him. I’m a little worried about him, but you might be giving him a much needed break from his life. Any time he spends thinking about your grades is time he isn’t worried about his own. That can only help him at this point. He’s a smart kid and he needs to learn to trust that.”

 

Joe considered that for a moment and even though he agreed to ask Web about it, he decided to do that only as a last resort.

 

“So what about you? How’s Stanford? Is it everything you hoped it would be?” Joe asked. Even though he doesn’t plan to go to college, another thing his mother couldn’t seem to get over, he was fascinated by the concept. And wanted to know if it was anything like it was in the movies.

 

“I hate Econ class, it’s at 8 o’clock on Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays. It’s so easy and every morning I have fight the urge to say fuck it and go back to sleep.”

 

“And you don’t because?” Joe asked, because skipping classes at random is one of the few parts about college that sounded appealing. He couldn’t really see Grant doing it, the fact that Grant is considering it is a little surprising.

 

“Attendance is part of my grade. If I don’t get those points, it will drop my score by a letter grade. I refuse to get a B in this class. Of course Tab is no help whatsoever because his classes don’t even start until noon.”

 

“How is that, living with the love of your life?” Joe asked, because it will never not be funny that Grant is sharing a dorm with the guy he first had a crush on.

 

“I deeply regret ever telling you that,” Grant said. “It’s amazing what a couple of years of not seeing the person will do to a crush. It helps that we are completely different people now. We are now the social experiment of what happens when you force an introvert and extravert to share the same small space.”

 

Joe tried not to think about what that meant. Tried not to even begin to worry about what that meant for him and Web. If the three months they spend together was enough to counter the nine months they spend apart. Or wonder if what they have will fade and Web will meet a fancy new boyfriend at this fancy new school.

 

So he stuck to the conversation at hand because he didn’t want to whine about his problems. “It wouldn’t kill you to try and have a little fun. You even spend your summer babysitting other people’s children.”

 

“Oh don’t kid yourself, I’m still babysitting,” Grant said. “Keeping Tab from getting alcohol poisoning is a full time job. But this weekend is me meeting him halfway. I’m here, I’m going to let him drag me around to parties, but I am not getting drunk.”

 

“Wow, could you be any less excited about this?” Joe asked.

 

“Probably not,” Grant said as the waitress set down their burgers. “But if it gets him to leave me alone during midterms, it will all be worth it.”

 

“I’m going to laugh really hard if you end up enjoying yourself,” Joe said as he shook ketchup onto his plate.

 

“I see zero chances of that happening,” Grant said, gesturing at Joe with a fry.

 

Joe didn’t respond, just smiled. Because whether Grant wanted to admit it or not, Tab was rubbing off on him in small ways. Grant was thinking about cutting class and he was going to a party. If he wasn’t careful, he might actually enjoy himself.

 

*~*

 

Webster was sitting on his bed reading when he felt his phone vibrating against his hip. He expected Joe, but then remembered that today was the day Grant was coming up to visit. So he was going to have to take second fiddle, if only for a day. The screen of his phone proclaimed Hoob. Webster smiled and he opened the phone.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Guess who got a date for homecoming?” Hoob’s joy practically vibrated through the phone.

 

“Who are you and how did you get Hoob’s phone?” Webster questioned.

 

“Ah ha, ah ha. You’ve been spending too much time around that boyfriend of yours. You’ve picked up his sense of humor,” Hoob replied.

 

“I’m sorry, so who got the date for homecoming?” Webster asked, because this was first chance to tease Hoob and he’d be damned if he was going to miss it.

 

“I did,” Hoob said, sounding a little resentful. “I am taking Mackenzie Cook to homecoming and if you went to my school, you would know that this is a big deal. She is a cheerleader, she is very pretty, and way too smart for me. But she’s in my programing class and I asked her and she said yes. I can’t believe no one had asked her yet, it’s in like a week.”

 

Webster laughed. “Why are you telling me these things? They sound like things you should tell her.”

 

“Her coding is beautiful. I might have told her that before I asked her to homecoming. It’s a little bit of blur. I was going to ask her to be in my project group, but it ended up coming out as ‘do you want to go to homecoming with me’. I got nervous,” Hoob said.

 

“So no group project?” Webster asked, still smiling.

 

“No, she asked me be in her group. She thinks I have a good eye for website design,” Hoob said and Webster could envision Hoob jumping up and down on the other end of the phone.

 

“My mother thinks so too,” Webster replied.

 

“Yeah,” Hoob replied. “I might have told her that story. I hope that’s ok.”

 

Webster shook his head. “If you think it will help you get a date, feel free.”

 

It was Hoob’s turn to laugh now. “I might use it to get into this online group I want to join. It’s a hell of a prank.”

 

“What kind of online group?” Webster asked.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Hoob said.

 

“I’m just worried about you,” Webster said. “Mackenzie doesn’t sound like the kind of girl that visits you if you go to prison.”

 

“Well, this morning I didn’t think she was the kind of girl that would go out with me, so I’m reevaluating everything I thought about her.”

 

“It’s probably because you told her you liked her code,” Webster said. “Maybe she hasn’t been complimented on that before.”

 

“Well, she should have been,” Hoob said, sounding a little indignant. “Like every day she should hear that. Strangers on the street should be saying it.”

 

Webster smiled. Mackenzie was a lucky girl because the way Hoob saw it, he was lucky to be taking her to a dance. “So is she your girlfriend now?”

 

“No, you sound like my mother,” Hoob said. “I mean, I know you’ve been on guys for a while, but have you completely forgotten how girls work? I mean sure, that is the goal, but let’s just get through the dance first and then if I don’t like break her foot or something, we’ll go from there.”

 

“You already talked to your mom about this?” Webster asked. “Wow, you must be really serious about this girl.”

 

“A pretty girl knows my name and respects my website design. This is not going to happen in the course of my daily life. Well, she almost had my name. She called me Don. I’m not going to lie though, I thought it was cute.”

 

“Aww, you already have pet nicknames.” Webster couldn’t resist poking fun one more time. Joe would be disappointed in him if he had let that one slide.

 

“You know, I didn’t give you shit when you started dating Joe…Oh god, you are not allowed to tell him about this,” Hoob said, sounding a little panicked. “This has to be one of those things that stays between best friends. He will give me no end of shit for this.”

 

“Ok,” Webster said, recognizing that Hoob was probably right. “This should really be the part where I defend him, that no he would be happy for you and wouldn’t tease you, but we both know that’s not Joe.”

 

“How is your boyfriend by the way? He never calls, he never writes. I’m starting to not feel the love,” Hoob said.

 

“Well, Grant is in town so we all are second fiddle for a bit,” Webster said.

 

“Aww, is someone jealous?” Hoob asked.

 

“Yes, I’m insanely jealous of the fact that Grant can get on a train and inside of an hour see my boyfriend,” Webster replied. Jealous of Grant? That was silly, that was Joe’s best friend. It would be like Joe being jealous of Hoob. But the access Grant had, that was something Webster was jealous of. Wanting that kind of access was what got him thrown in the preverbal slammer in the first place.

 

They said goodbye shortly after that, Hoob’s mom called him for dinner and Webster should probably finish his reading for physics. He’d just been hanging up the phone when Leckie returned to the room.

 

“So who was that? Can’t have been the boyfriend or you’d have been out on the fire escape,” Leckie asked.

 

“Joe,” Webster said. “The boyfriend’s name is Joe.”

 

“Aww, are we going to start sharing?” Leckie plopped down on his bed so hard that the springs groaned in protest.

 

“Sure, why not? We’re cellmates after all,” Webster replied.

 

“I told you you’d warm up to me.” Leckie leaned back into in his bed, arms crossed behind his head.

 

Webster shook his head and smiled. His friends were great. There would be no replacing Hoob or Grant. But it was probably time to stop resisting and admit that maybe he could use one more.

  



	3. Three

Over the next few days, Webster learned to share. He learned that Leckie had two years of wisdom on him when it came to living in hell. So there seemed to be something he could teach Webster after all. He learned about Leckie’s parents and his belief that he seemed to inconvenience them with his presence. Webster, in turn, confided that he only seemed to disappoint his. Webster told him about summer camp, Hoob, Grant, and Joe. Leckie told him about the boy he’d gotten caught with that got him sent here in the first place. Told him about the depression that had set in when the boy’s letters stopped coming. Told Webster that even though he wanted to, he knew couldn’t tell the school shrink. They talked to each other because sometimes there was no one else to talk to. Webster’s friends had lives and even Joe missed a night now again. Though he was always apologetic about it. Leckie just didn’t seem to have any friends.

 

Webster has been waiting for this field trip for about month, since his American Literature teacher had stood in front of the class and told them about it. He’d put the date in his phone, and counted down the days in his head. Leckie was not as thrilled and teased Webster mercifully over it. Webster didn’t care, this was the first thing that he’d gotten excited over since arriving at this hellhole and he wasn’t going to let Leckie spoil it.

 

They were going to spend the day in Hartford. It was a forty minute bus ride, which meant sitting next to Leckie and listening to him complain about the whole thing.  Webster just buried his nose in his American History reading and tuned him out. They were going to spend the morning at the Harriet Beecher Stowe House and the Mark Twain House. And he knew they were just ‘dead people’s houses’, but important works of literature had been written in those walls and now Webster would get to stand there. That was not nothing, no matter how little Leckie thought of it.

 

After that there would be lunch and then they would go to the Wadsworth Museum of Art. Webster was somewhat less excited about this, but he liked walking through museums and would do it after school to avoid going home. If Webster’s enthusiasm had dipped a bit though, Leckie’s had bottomed out and hit the floor. When they got there, they were introduced to the director of the museum, Helen Smith. She was pretty and nice in a genuine way. So when she told them that she was happy to have them, Webster actually believed her. She told them about the collections and she believed that the best way to experience them was in a self-guided fashion. She told them she has a son their age and that she knew he’d complain for days if she forced him to take a guided tour. She officially became Webster’s favorite.

 

After that, she lost the crowd a bit. She told them about the Step into the Story workshop and that their teacher would like them to complete a short story based on one the paintings in the collection. She did her best to sell it, but in end it was homework and that was a hard sell. Webster was unfazed. If there was one thing Webster enjoyed, it’s fiction. Reading it or writing it.

 

Next to him, Leckie groaned. “Wonder if there’s some place around here to take a nap?”

 

He took off walking and Webster made a point to go in the other direction. He ended up in the European art gallery. The paintings were beautiful. The faces so realistic, as if the subjects could lean out of the painting and write the story for you. But Webster was uninspired, walking past the paintings, idly tapping a pen against his notebook. The paintings were too limiting. The setting, the characters and the plotline all chosen for you by the original artist. So Webster moved on, leaving the lazing writing to his classmates. Or his roommate.

 

He ended up in a gallery for the Hudson River School. It was a gallery of landscape after landscape. And when he finally saw the painting, his breath actually caught. The glass plaque next to it noted the artist Frederic Edwin Church and the name of the painting as Sunrise off the Maine Coast. As Webster stared at the painting, he decided this was his painting. At that moment, he was sure he wanted to live in this painting. Smell the salt in the air. Watch the water hit the rocks. Hear the sound it made as the tide came in. You’d probably never get him out of a boat and back on to dry land. And if a sunrise looked anything like that in real life, he’d probably never miss one. He wanted to live on the water. Wake up every day with a view like this. He should probably tell Joe this. But discussing a future beyond college made Joe shift uncomfortably, so Webster tried to avoid it. Even college made Joe weird now that he told his parents he wasn’t going.

 

So he sat down on the floor in front the painting and wrote. Wrote what he’d like his life to be like, living out on the water. Wrote what it would be like living there with a lover, gender not disclosed. He wrote until Leckie came and tapped his shoulder.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked. His hair was messed up, but his eyes were dancing like Webster had never seen before.

 

“Our assignment,” Webster said, giving him a weird look, because what the hell else would he be doing?

 

Leckie groaned and was probably going to say something about just picking a picture of the internet, when their teacher stuck her head in and told them it was time to get ready to go. Webster stood up and gave Leckie another weird look, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Leckie was grinning like he’d won something and Webster figured it was probably better not to ask.

 

On the way out, he bought a postcard of his painting and his teacher applauded his dedication. But that was not why. He read somewhere or was told that if you had a goal, sometimes it helped to see it. When times got hard, you could look at that and know what you were working towards. So he got a postcard of the water in the morning. Of the place he’d like to live. So that when struggles came, he could see what he was struggling for.

 

*~*

 

Joe was serious when he told Grant that he wasn’t going to bother Web with his disdain and, therefore, inability to focus on the Scarlet Letter. Mostly because Web had other things on his plate. And also because he didn’t want to admit that he was having trouble understanding something that had come easy to Web. That was Friday, today was Tuesday, and he had a quiz on the first three chapters of this book on Thursday. So desperate times call for desperate measures and swallowing your pride. He really needed the help and so that was why he was counting the rings as he waited for Web to pick up, desperately hoping he didn’t have to leave a voicemail.

 

He’d almost resigned himself to this when he heard, “Because I like him more than you.” Followed by a sound that Joe knew was Web’s window opening.

 

“Hello,” Web said into the phone.

 

“What am I getting you out of?” Joe asked.

 

“Roommate bonding. We have plenty of time for that later,” Web said. “What’s up? Or did you just miss the sound of my voice?”

 

Joe smiled, but he decided not to give Web the satisfaction of responding. “So what do you know about the Scarlet Letter?”

 

“The novel?” Web asked and Joe could understand the confusion because there was no way in hell he would have chosen this book willingly.

 

“Yes, the novel,” Joe clarified.

 

“I read it last year in AP English.” The was a pause on the other end of the phone and Joe could almost hear the sound of Web putting two and two together. “You have read it this year, don’t you?”

 

“Yep,” Joe said, rocking back in his desk chair.

 

“You hate it, don’t you?” Web said.

 

“No, I’m pretty sure I loathe it. Tell me Hester rolls on this guy, because what the hell, it took two people to get her pregnant. Why is she the only one up there with the letter on her dress and shit?”

 

“So how far are you?” Web asked, and Joe was a little annoyed that he didn’t answer his question.

 

“I just finished the second chapter and I’m pretty sure whatever I was supposed to get out of it, I didn’t,” Joe said as he reached for the book on his desk.

 

“Ok, so the whole book is going to be about sin…or more like original sin-”

 

“I know what that is,” Joe said, because he could not handle another explanation of that, even if he did like the sound of Web’s voice. “My teacher devoted a lot of time to that on Friday.”

 

“Ok,” Web said. “So now you have to focus on the imagery. The scaffold and the prison? They are all in the center of town because the puritans think sin infects a society. In a way, this is everyone’s chance to prove that they are good people by condemning Hester.”

 

“That is fucked up,” Joe replied.

 

“Well, that’s what makes Hester great,” Web continued. “She accepts that she is human and because she is human, she needs to be loved. And that is her sin, but she knows that. That’s why she has the flashy letter and holding the baby so close. That’s her life now and that’s just how it is. She can’t hide it or try and atone for it. I mean, what they don’t understand is the letter is meaningless to Hester, she has Pearl. Pearl is also going to be a reminder and an embodiment of Hester’s sin. There is nothing the townspeople can do that is going to have more of effect on Hester’s life then Pearl.”

 

“She should still throw the guy under the bus,” Joe muttered darkly.

 

“Oh he’ll get his,” Web replied. “So did you notice the rose bushes by the prison, something beautiful growing some place ugly?”

 

“Don’t tell me that’s a metaphor for Hester,” Joe said.

 

“That’s what my teacher told us anyway,” Web replied. “And that was your first of three scaffold scenes. And each time you see a character on that scaffold, that is their first step towards self-reliance. Because from this point on, you are going so see Hester standing outside the society, with only herself to count on.”

 

“How do you get all this stuff?” Joe asked, because he’d read the same two chapters Web had. And more recently and he didn’t pick up on any of that.

 

“I had a good teacher,” Web replied. “Look, I still have my notes from this on my computer or my external. Do you want me send them to you? That way you can read them as you go and maybe it will make more sense.”

 

“You still have your notes over this? How much did you love this book?” Joe couldn’t help but judge his boyfriend’s taste in books.   

 

“I saved my notes because I want to major in literature and I might need them in college. Hell, I might one day have to teach this book,” Web said.

 

Joe groaned. “Don’t be that guy, pick literally anything else.”

 

Web laughed. “So do you want the notes or not?”

 

“Pretty please,” Joe said, smiling.

 

“I’ll find them for you tonight,” Web replied.

 

“You’re the best,” Joe said, still smiling.

 

“With this yes, but if you get in trouble with trig, you should probably text Grant or something.”

 

“Oh I got trig,” Joe said and he knew sounded like he was boasting, but he was pretty proud of the fact that he could handle math.

 

“Well, you may be getting a phone call from this room before the end of the semester then,” Web replied.

 

“Do the writers not like math?” Joe said.

 

“No, I’m pretty sure we loathe it,” Web replied and Joe laughed because he couldn’t help it.

 

“Well, I don’t take notes, but I’ll volunteer to check your homework,” Joe said.

 

“Why am I not surprised you don’t take notes?” Web said. “What do you use to study for the tests?”

 

“Study?” Joe said, feigning ignorance.

 

“I hate you,” Web replied.

 

“I just don’t have to take this as seriously as you do. I need to graduate, I don’t need to get into an Ivy League university. So my bar is a lot lower than yours.”

 

“It shouldn’t be,” Web replied. “You’re smart, Joe and kick someone’s ass if they tell you different.”

 

Joe smiled. Sometimes Web really was the best.

  
  



	4. Four

“I don’t believe you.”

 

“What? Why not?” Leckie hopped up off the bed, his arms waving at his side.

 

Webster had gotten off the phone with Joe and crawled back through the window into his dorm room. No sooner had he gotten the window closed when Leckie decided it was story time. Webster had a feeling this was going to happen because Leckie had been practically vibrating since they got on the bus to head back to school. The problem was that whatever had him so excited apparently was not fit for other people because Leckie hadn’t said anything on the bus or at dinner. Webster had been a little relieved that Joe had called because he was pretty sure that whatever was going on with Leckie, he didn’t want to know.

 

He’d been right. He knew that there were risks in becoming maybe Leckie’s only friend, but he had not expected having to listen to tales of his sexual exploits to be one of them. Mostly because he didn’t think there were going to be any. If Leckie had a hard time making friends, it was going to take a really special guy who would want to date him. Hence Webster’s disbelief. But for some reason he still wanted to spare Leckie’s feelings.

 

“I don’t know, I just have a really hard time believing that on a school field trip, you managed to find someone to make out with,” Webster replied. He hoped Leckie didn’t see it as a dig about his somewhat off putting personality. Even though it kind of was.

 

“Oh, we did more than that,” Leckie said, getting that smile on his face that would from this day forward signal to Webster that he’d gotten laid.

 

“Please don’t remind me about that,” Webster implored. “I don’t need that visual. Just, isn’t it a little convenient that he doesn’t go here?”

 

“No, I find it terribly inconvenient that he goes to a public school in Hartford,” Leckie said.

 

“I mean convenient in the fact that I’m not going to be able meet him,” Webster said.

 

“You think I’m making this up?” Leckie sounded really offended and Webster figured he probably would be too. “You know I’m never going to meet Joe and I still take your word for it that he’s real.”

 

“I talk to him almost every night on the phone,” Webster countered.

 

“For all I know, you could be talking to yourself,” Leckie said, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back down on the edge of his bed.

 

“Ok, I deserved that,” Webster admitted, turning his desk chair so that he was no longer facing his computer and could give Leckie his full attention.

 

“Yes, you did.” Leckie’s arms were still crossed tightly over his chest.

 

“I’m sorry. Start from the beginning,” Webster said, choosing to take the high road. “And this time, feel free to leave out hand jobs in the empty stairwell.”

 

“You are such a prude when it comes to sex. I’m starting to think you and Joe don’t have any,” Leckie said, eyes narrowing as if studying Webster’s face could give him the answers to his question.  

 

“Think what you want,” Webster replied. Based on previous conversations, Webster was pretty sure that he knew the sum total of Leckie’s sexual experience. And the count was even as far as Web could tell. Sure, Webster had rounded home base, but he’d skipped third in order to do it. By all of Leckie’s accounts, he seemed stuck on third. But clueing Leckie to this fact was not something Webster planned on doing anytime soon.

 

“I don’t think you’re a virgin, but I don’t think you get around much either.” Leckie’s eyes were still narrowed like the answer might appear on Webster’s forehead.

 

“Hoosier, tell me about Hoosier because this may be the one chance you get,” Webster said, knowing that if he didn’t get Leckie off of the subject of his sexual experiences there was a danger it could become Leckie’s new obsession. Webster would much rather that be Hoosier.

 

“He’s really kinda hot,” Leckie said and Webster felt like he knew that feeling. Could remember thinking that as he sat across from Joe at dinner after they’d rearranged the shelving units at the swim dock. This guy is ridiculously attractive and I just got him off. It’s a smug feeling that Webster could appreciate. “He’s got brown hair and pretty startling blue eyes.”

 

“Well, if I’d have known you went for blue eyes,” Webster said, batting his.

 

“Oh fuck you,” Leckie said, throwing his pillow at Webster, but he didn’t put enough force on it to get it all the way across the room, so it ended up hitting Webster in the knees. “We actually met his mom today. She’s the director at the art museum. They moved her from Indiana for her job.”

 

“Wow, she was so nice to us and you defiled her son in a stairwell. I hope you are proud of yourself.” Webster was joking and since the smile on Leckie’s face didn’t move, Webster knew he got it.

 

“Believe me, I am.” Leckie said, and Webster knew the smugness was going to get annoying, but for right now he’d let Leckie have it.

 

“I still don’t understand how you managed to get a public school kid into a stairwell on a school day,” Webster said.

 

“Teacher in-service day,” Leckie responded.

 

“Asshole,” Webster swore, because some kids had all the luck.

 

“Yeah, but he makes up for it,” Leckie said wistfully.

 

“I don’t want to know how.” Webster waved his hands in front of his face.

 

“Thanks for this.” Leckie gestured between the two of them with his hand as to convey the point that he meant the conversation. “It makes it real to talk about it, so I don’t have to keep this secret all to myself.”

 

And Webster got it, remembering Joe expressing a similar sentiment. “What are cellmates for?”

 

Leckie laughed and Webster got the feeling this wasn’t going to be last time they talked about boys. Even if he hoped it was the last time they talked about sex.

 

*~*

 

Joe hit the back door with a considerable amount of force as he headed into the backyard. He stood on the porch trying to get his breathing under control, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’d have to go back in eventually. Probably apologize to his mother for snapping at her.

 

_“I’m sorry I’m not Hannah.”_

 

It was a hateful thing to say, but damn it if it didn’t sound true. So he’d have to tell her he was sorry, but he’d be damned if he apologized to Hannah. She was doing this on purpose. Painstakingly documenting her college process for the dinner table because she enjoyed that for once, she was the favorite.  Before he faced his mother, he needed a moment to himself so he could get control of his temper. Because he knew that this wasn’t over for her and she’d probably want to nag him a bit more about college before she let him go to his room.  

 

If he hadn’t left his phone in his room before he went down to dinner, he probably would have called Web right now. Just to hear the sound of his voice. To hear Web tell him that the structure of a four year university wasn’t for everyone. That some people just don’t learn that way. Or whatever else he might have been going to say before Joe had pulled him in and kissed him hard on the mouth while they were sitting beside the lake at summer camp. Later, all he’d asked was what Joe wanted to do. He’d just laid in the grass and listened when Joe said he might like to become a barber. There was no judgment, just Web’s boundless curiosity about training and finding a place to work after that.

 

Since camp had started that summer, Web had been full of questions for Grant about the admission process to colleges. Grant started at Stanford in the fall and Joe knew that was a big deal. He knew that meant Grant was smart or at least knew how to work hard. Web was hell bent on Berkeley and Joe knew that wasn’t the kind of school they let just anyone into. The more they had talked about it, more Joe had realized that this probably wasn’t for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he was smart. Well, most of the time. It was more along the lines of what Web had said. Four more years of school just wasn’t for everyone. Nor were the jobs you got after something like that. They were too structured, every day the same. And he knew he couldn’t go through four more years of school just to suffer through that.

 

He’d been nervous about telling Web. Worried that Web would start pulling away, that Web wouldn’t want to date someone that didn’t want to go to college. He’d been building himself up for it all day. Trying to find the words or the courage to tell his boyfriend that the only careers he’d given any thought to didn’t involve a college education. He’d ended up sort of blurting it out. Web had just started comparing learning styles. Web always seemed to take Joe’s revelations in stride.

 

But since he’d forgotten his phone, he settled for self-soothing and sitting down on the edge of the porch and drawing his knees under his chin.

 

He was just settling in when he heard the back door open behind him.

 

“I’ll come back in and apologies to mom in a minute,” Joe said. He knew it was his dad standing behind him. He was the only one brave enough to come after Joe when he was like this.

 

“I know you will,” His dad said, sitting down beside him, legs hanging over the side of the porch.

 

They sat in silence for a little while, as they normally did.

 

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” his father said slowly as if trying to choose those words very carefully. “But your mother will come around. You’ve thrown her a lot of curve balls lately. She just needs time adjust.”

 

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Joe said. Web did, Grant did, and now his dad. Still his mother remained disappointed.

 

“And they’re right. You know your mother has been planning your life since you were small. Since the nurse handed you over at the hospital. And you going to college and marrying a nice girl were things she had counted on. So now that you tell her you have David and that you aren’t going to school…she needs a little time to adjust to that.”

 

“You didn’t,” Joe replied and that was part of what was bothering him. The fact that one parent was lagging so far behind the other.

 

“You’re not the kid I worry about,” his dad said, ruffling his hair. “I lose sleep over your sister, but I’m pretty sure you’ll turn out just fine.”

 

“Hannah?” Joe said, surprised.

 

“I know you’ll be happy,” his dad said. “I know the relationship that you are in will make you happy, whether it is with David or someone else. You sister may very well marry the first person she brings home that your mother likes. I know you’ll do something with your life that makes you happy, even if you don’t have to go to college to do it. In three years, your sister is going to college and I’m not sure she knows what she’s majoring in. I know that the life you make for yourself with be your own. I worry that your sister will choose the life that your mother wants her to have. So I lose a lot of sleep over your sister.”

 

They sat there in silence for a few more moments, Joe a little surprised that at least by one parent, he was considered well-adjusted.

 

“Come in when you’re ready,” his dad said. “But remember, you still have to apologize to your mother.

 

“I will,” Joe said, smiling at the memory of the last time someone had reminded him that he had to apologize to someone.  

 


	5. Five

“Why are you sending me pictures of your math homework?” Grant said when Joe answered the phone.

 

“Because they are making me show my work on the homework and my teacher is making ratios sound like something I need to learn,” Joe replied.

 

“You didn’t feel that maybe you should have texted me that first? You know, before the random sampling of your homework problems?” Great said.

 

“You’re making it sound like you have better things to do,” Joe said, putting his pencil down because harassing Grant was more fun.

 

“Well, I might have gotten myself a boyfriend,” Grant said in tone that made it sound like this wasn’t a welcome development. Which was odd because how could it not be?

 

“Don’t sound so excited,” Joe replied. “And I know I’m pretty new at this, but isn’t that something you kinda have or you don’t? I mean, I’m no expert, but I know I have a boyfriend.”

 

“It’s not always that simple,” Grant replied.

 

“Clearly,” Joe deadpanned.

 

“It’s just that…” Grant started, but then stopped and sighed. “You know what, no. I’m not telling you this.”

 

“Come on.” Joe couldn’t have hid his disappoint if he’d tried. “Who else are you going tell? Tab is going to mock you worse then I will.”

 

“I could call your boyfriend. He’d probably be appropriately sympathetic,” Grant said.

 

“Yeah, but he’ll tell me everything anyway, so cut out the middle man,” Joe said, reasonably confident that Web would tell him something like that.

 

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. Joe didn’t let it deter him. Grant made that noise a lot when he was around.

 

“So last month when I came up to see you-”

 

“If he’s from San Francisco, I like him already,” Joe cut in.

 

“Don’t get too excited. He’s an A’s fan, he grew up in Oakland.”

 

Joe made a disgusted noise. “You don’t have a boyfriend. No one needs a boyfriend that badly.”

 

“I don’t need one at all,” Grant said, once again making it sound like he was being punished. “Especially when he lives in San Francisco. I need fall break to study, my mother is forcing me to come home for Thanksgiving, and then I’m gone for a month at Christmas-”

 

“Wait a minute. You get a month off for Christmas?” Joe was absolutely stunned. He’d never heard of anyone getting that much time off for school.

 

“Jealous?” Grant asked.  

 

“Insanely,” Joe replied.

 

“The point is I have no idea when I’m going to see him again and I’m pretty sure that’s a problem, if he is my boyfriend.” Grant still sounded a little confused and Joe wasn’t really sure he understood why. “Though since he’s older, there is a real possibility that I am reading way more into this then I should.”

 

“You actually want to spend a whole month with your parents?” Joe said, knowing full well that if he’d gotten out, he wouldn’t want to go back for that long. He decided to skip over the rest because it just sounded like self-doubt and excuses.

 

“I don’t really have a choice,” Grant replied. “They lock you out of the dorms over Christmas break.”

 

The gears in Joe’s head ground to a stop for a second. He was no longer thinking about Grant’s boyfriend problem, but his boyfriend’s problem. He was going to get Web for just a semester before he had to send him back.

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Grant’s voice cut through his panic.

 

“What?”

 

“Webster. Don’t worry about it,” Grant repeated. “I already got it figured out. Tab and I are getting an apartment next year. So he can stay with us. Or by himself, when we are home for Christmas.”

 

“Are you and your roommate conspiring to get me laid?” Joe smiled, letting relief flood his body.

 

“Maybe if you’re a good boy and change the sheets. So am I your favorite counselor now?”

 

“Your paperwork went through?” Joe asked because Grant already knew the answer to that question. As if it were a contest, but Grant didn’t need to hear that out loud.

 

“Yep, they are going to give me responsibility and put me in charge of shit. And one of you degenerates is going to be cabin leader.” Joe could tell Grant was just joking with him.

 

“You know who it’s going to be?” Joe asked.

 

“Hoob,” Grant answered confidently. “They worry about giving you too much power.”

 

Joe smiled knowing that he’d at least been considered.

 

“And well, your boyfriend has somewhat of a reputation,” Grant said.

 

“It’s been two years. They really like to hold on to shit, don’t they?” Joe asked.

 

“Speirs asked me who I’d choose,” Grant volunteered.

 

“You told him Hoob?” Joe asked, trying not to sound hurt.

 

Grant laughed. “No. I told him it didn’t matter who they picked because the other two weren’t going listen to him anyway. How much power do you really think Skip had over Penkala and Malarkey? Hoob will be lucky if he gets that much.”

 

Joe laughed because he couldn’t help it. He was looking forward to this summer even if things were going to be a little different.

 

“There’s another reason a boyfriend is probably not a good idea. I’ll be gone all fucking summer,” Grant said.

 

“Do you like him?” Joe asked. “If you like him, just fuck off your Friday classes and come up here. I won’t even be offended if you skip visiting me.”

 

“You sound disturbingly like Tab right now,” Grant said.

 

“See? It’s two against one, you have to go,” Joe said.

 

“It is not even remotely that simple,” Grant replied.

 

“For you it is,” Joe said. “Come on. When have we ever had a problem that you didn’t know how to solve? Surely you can fix something as simple as how to study for a test and get laid in the same weekend. I think I read somewhere that you should take frequent study breaks.”

 

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t what they had in mind,” Grant said.

 

“Just go see him. Stop making excuses.”

 

“Wow, one boyfriend and suddenly you’ve got relationship wisdom.”

 

“It’s not my wisdom,” Joe replied, remembering when Grant had sat him down and explained that there was already a plan in place to get Web to summer camp for a second summer.

 

“It’s nice to know I made an impression.”

 

More than you know, Joe thought as he rocked back in his desk chair. More than you know.

 

*~*

 

Webster tapped the railing in front of him idly as he waited for Joe to pick up the phone.

 

“Hey you,” Joe said when he picked up. The first time he had heard the strangely impersonal greeting, he’d found it slightly off putting. But then he’d talked to Hoob. After hearing Hoob complain that it was ‘weird as fuck’ that Joe just started the conversation with no greeting whatsoever, Webster started to see it differently. At least Joe thought he was worth the effort of attempting phone etiquette. Even if he was bad at it.  

 

“How are things on the cellblock?” Joe asked.

 

“Interesting as ever,” Webster replied. “Turns out my roommate found a way to get laid on a school field trip.”

 

“That’s strangely impressive,” Joe said, sounding somewhat awed. “Don’t be too hard on yourself; you did manage to get laid during summer camp.”

 

“We had significantly more space and less supervision to pull that off,” Webster said, pulling his uniform blazer tighter around himself. Sitting on the fire escape was starting to get a little cold. But this was a part of his life that he couldn’t imagine sharing with Leckie.

 

“How’s the supervision right now?” Joe asked.

 

“I am sitting on the fire escape,” Webster replied, knowing that he sounded a little unhinged even to his own ears.

 

“I’m going to wear you down on this,” Joe said, and Webster was sure he would.

 

“Why do you want this so bad?” Webster said. “Because I don’t think it’s going to be as magical as you’ve built it up in your head. I’m pretty sure I’m going to bad at this.”

 

“Oh come on, writer boy. You don’t think you can use your words?” Joe asked.

 

“Joe, I’m blushing right now,” Webster replied, because he was sure that he needed to be honest about this even if he was going to be mocked for it.

 

“Maybe that’s because you are sitting on a fire escape with your roommate on the other side of the window behind you. And we are sitting here talking about this in a very unsexy way.” Joe countered.

 

Webster sighed. “So you’re, what? Going to set the mood?”

 

“You don’t think I can?” Joe sounded a little offended that Webster was doubting his ability.

 

“I did not say that,” Webster replied. “Because if I said that, you would probably offer a practical demonstration and I’m still sitting on my fire escape.”

 

“You know, for someone who’s had sex with me on the swim dock, the porch of our cabin, behind the hay bales on the archery range, and, my personal favorite, in the showers while at summer camp, you are weirdly put off by phone sex on the fire escape.” Joe listed these events off like he was making a grocery list rather than detailing the places they’d had sex.

 

“Somehow this feels strangely more public,” Webster said. And he knew the reason, tucked away in the darkness and the shadows of summer camp he’d had one thing to focus on, Joe. Joe consumed all of his senses, there was no room to feel self-conscious. There was just Joe, who didn’t let him do a whole lot of thinking at all.

 

“Well, next time you catch yourself thinking that we are going to suck at phone sex, just count up the number of times you’ve cum with me whispering in your ear.” The way Joe said it was dirty. It was like sex crawling through the phone line. And he was right. No matter what they were doing, Joe was always whispering really filthy things into Webster’s ear. It was like having a running narration and it never failed to drive Webster more than a little crazy.

 

“Still on the fire escape,” Webster said, knowing that he sounded more breathy then commanding.

 

“But you know that matters less than it did a minute ago.” And of course, Joe would pick up on the difference in Webster’s voice. He was always at his most observant when Webster didn’t want him to be.

 

“Can we please talk about something else?” Webster said, almost gasping into the phone. “I know you’re not going to give up on this. And I’m pretty sure I don’t want you to, but just not right now.”

 

At first there wasn’t a response on the other end of the phone. Then there was a sharp exhale. Pretty much Joe’s standard frustration response. “What do you want to talk about?”

 

“Thank you,” Webster said, knowing that Joe putting something aside just because Webster wanted him to was something that should be rewarded.

 

“Don’t make a big thing about it, princess,” Joe said.

 

Webster smiled, remembering a friendly shove on a hillside, the first step in a long journey to here. “Signed up to take the SAT today,” Webster said, trying to pick a safe subject that would still mean something to Joe. “So if I get a good score, I can start applying to colleges.”

 

“When,” Joe said. “When you get a good score.”

 

“When I get a get a good score,” Webster repeated.

 

“There you go,” Joe replied. “Do you know you’re going to get like a month off for Christmas?”

 

“Been talking to Grant?” Webster said.

 

“Yeah, and you aren’t going to have go home when they close the dorms. Grant’s going to let you stay with him.” Joe said this like it was no big deal, such a causal way of addressing such a huge concession.

 

“He is?” Webster said, sounding as surprised as he felt.

 

“Of course he is,” Joe said like Webster was being particularly slow. “He’s probably going to be looking out for us until we die. Besides, you really didn’t think that if we got you out here we were going to send you back?”

 

“You’re far too possessive for that,” Webster agreed.

 

“You bet your ass. I get you out here and I’m not giving you back.”

 

Webster smiled because that was maybe as close to a declaration of love as Joe had ever come. And for right now, to Webster, it felt like more than enough.  

  
  



	6. Six

When Leckie entered the room after his Tuesday ‘head examination’, it took Webster a second to realize that he was talking to him. Webster had Mozart blaring loudly in his ears to drown out the fact that it sounded like someone was literally running up and down the hallway outside his room.

 

“What?” Webster said, pulling one of his ear buds out of his left ear.

 

“You really want to lose your hearing to that shit?” Leckie asked, sitting down on Webster’s bed.

 

“Is that seriously what you wanted?” Webster replied, not even caring that he sounded pissed, because he was a little.

 

“No, I’m just giving you shit,” Leckie said, smiling.

 

“So there’s a point coming up here fast?” Webster asked.

 

“Yes, there is,” Leckie said with that lopsided smile on his face. “I have to get out of here. I can’t take another minute of structure and rules. Honest to god, it feels like the walls are closing in on me.”

 

“Ok,” Webster said, drawing out the vowel. He hoped to convey that he had no idea what was going on here.  

 

“So you want to come with?” Leckie asked and it was then that Webster clued into what they were talking about.

 

“You are going to sneak out?” Webster meant it as a question, but he knew it wasn’t. He knew what Leckie was going to do and he knew that he probably couldn’t talk him out of it.

 

“Keep your voice down,” Leckie said, gesturing with open palms.

 

“Oh my god, you cannot be serious,” Webster said, resting his head on the heels of his hands.

 

“So I guess that means you won’t be coming?”

 

“Yes.” Webster was surprised he had to say that out loud. “If they catch you, you are going to get expelled.”

 

“Thank you, Hermione.”

 

“Fuck you. I’m trying to look out for you,” Webster said.

 

“And that is an interesting development in our friendship, but if I don’t get out of here, I’m going to go crazy,” Leckie said. He might have been going to say something else, but his phone buzzed in his blazer pocket. He removed it and slid his fingers across it, a soft smile forming as he did so.

 

“Oh,” Webster said, realization dawning. “Hoosier.”

 

“Not until just now.” Leckie looked slightly embarrassed.

 

“Well now I’m definitely not coming,” Webster said.

 

“Well that’s good because now you are no longer invited,” Leckie said.

 

Webster laughed and returned his attention to the paper he was writing. It was wasn’t exactly rocket science. It actually seemed like a waste of time to write your life story as a junior.  But it was a writing assignment and since those were his favorite, Webster was still going to give it his all.

 

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you?” Leckie asked.

 

“No.” Webster felt his cheeks turning red at the question. “Joe lives in California, why would I?”

 

“You’re somewhat disappointing as a roommate right now.” Leckie shook his head. “Don’t wait up.”

 

With that, he hopped off the bed and traded his uniform blazer for his wool coat and buttoned it around himself.

 

“Try not to grin like that when you walk down the hall,” Webster said. “That much joy in this building is a dead giveaway.”

 

“If they ask-”

 

“You went to the library,” Webster cut in.

 

Leckie smiled at him and for the first time in a while, it reached his eyes. So maybe Leckie needed this. Just a few hours away to clear his head. “Enjoy the alone time. Try not to work the whole time,” he said before he opened the door and slipped out into the hallway.

 

Webster sighed, got up, and locked the door. He was about to sit down and finish writing his paper, but his eyes caught sight of his phone sitting on his desk. Leckie would probably be gone for a while. If they were ever going to try it, this was probably the moment.

 

Fuck.

 

Webster reached forward and closed his computer. He took a deep breath. First things first, changing out of his uniform. He hated everything about it and there was no way that he was going to be able to wear it and feel sexy at the time. He unceremoniously shucked his uniform and pulled on a pair of sweats and one of his camp shirts. While they weren’t particularly sexy either, at least they were comfortable.

 

As he made to close the lid on his dresser drawer, he thought of what he’d shoved in the back when Leckie wasn’t looking. It was the lube they’d used over summer camp. Joe had stuffed it in his duffel when they were packing up for ‘just in case’. Webster hadn’t needed to ask for clarification as to what case he should be using it for. Webster took a deep breath and yanked the drawer open before he could lose his nerve. He shifted his t-shirts around until he found what he was looking for.

 

‘Ok,” he thought, staring at the lube in his hand. ‘This is just Joe. Of all the things he might mock you for, this isn’t one of them.’ After the pep talk, Webster crawled into his bed and pulled the covers up to his waist. Taking a deep breath, he pressed Joe’s name in his phone. As he listened to it ring, he figured it would be just his luck that he would get himself all worked up and it would go to voicemail. Just as he was about to hang up, he heard the familiar greeting.  

 

“Hey you.”

 

“Hey.” And Webster knew it sounded more like an exhale then a word.

 

“Are you ok?” Which was a logical question and one Webster wasn’t sure he had an answer for.

 

“Um…well…ah…Leckie snuck out for the evening…so-”

 

“Oh, ok,” Joe replied. “Let me lock my bedroom door. Hold all of those thoughts.” There was a little commotion on the other end of the phone and it sounded like Joe might have tripped over something in his haste to lock the door.  

 

“Ok,” Joe said, exhaling fast. “What are you wearing?”

 

*~*

 

Joe could practically hear Web freaking out on the other end of the phone. And that was the last thing he wanted. When the silence had stretched on a little too long for Joe’s comfort, he decided to start.  Maybe it would be easier if he went first.

 

“I’m wearing a blue t-shirt and my Superman sweatpants.”

 

He heard an exhale on the other end of the phone. “Gray sweatpants and one of my camp shirts.”

 

“Aww, my favorite. You’re so sweet,” Joe replied, because he’d lost count of the number of times he’d peeled Web out of that outfit. He heard a breathy laugh on the other end of the phone and that was more like it.

 

“There’s…ah…something else,” Web said, and Joe could tell he was having to build himself up to something. “I…um brought the lube to bed with me.”

 

“Fuck,” Joe swore involuntarily, because he wasn’t ready for that one, but Web always had been full of surprises. “You want me to talk you through it?” Joe was all but crossing his fingers at this point. He didn’t know what had pushed his boyfriend from embarrassed to experimental, but he wasn’t going to do anything to push him backwards.

 

“Yeah,” Web stuttered.

 

“Alright, writer boy. Time to use that imagination of yours.” Joe settled back into the pillows propped up against his headboard. “Hmm, if I was there, what would I want to do with you?” Joe mused out loud. He heard a catch in breath on the other end of phone. “I’d probably start on your neck, while I push my hands up under your t-shirt. Feel your chest hair under my fingers.”

 

There was a noise of protest on the other end of the phone, just like there would be if he was actually doing what he was describing. There was something about Web’s chest that made him self conscious. Joe wasn’t sure what it was, maybe it was the chest hair. But Joe liked Web’s chest, he liked marking it up. He like leaving a claim behind.  Joe was just going to keep touching him so Web would have to get over it.

 

“I’d pull your shirt off over your head.” There was a rustling of fabric on the other end of the phone that said Web knew how to follow instructions.

 

“I’d get my mouth on your nipples next.” Joe heard a whine on the other end of the phone. He had been waiting for it, he knew it was coming. There were some things about Web that were completely predictable, but that it didn’t mean they weren’t fun. “Then I’d work my way down your stomach biting, sucking, and kissing as I go.”

 

Joe shifted trying to adjust himself. When it didn’t really work, he shimmied out of his sleep pants and boxers. He hissed when the fabric slid over his dick. He may not be able to feel Web, but he sounded just like he did those times when he could.

 

There was a gasp on the other end of the phone, followed by a broken off moan.

 

“Hey,” Joe said teasing. “No touching.”

 

“Like you weren’t,” Web replied.

 

“Did you take your pants off?”

 

“Yeah,” Web replied.

 

“Get the lube.” Joe waited as he heard the sheets moving on the other end of the phone.  

 

“Ok,” Web said. He sounded less sure of himself again.

 

“We don’t have to,” Joe offered an out, just in case that was what Web needed.

 

Web must have popped the cap off the lube right into the phone because it sounded that close. Joe grinned. There was no talking Web out of something once he’d made up his mind.

 

“Once your fingers are slick, trace the muscle and press a little,” Joe instructed. “It’s going to feel weird at first. When you feel it start to give, start pressing in your finger.”

 

As he listened to Web’s stuttering breath, hisses, and gasps, Joe wished he was there. Wished he could see Web bite his lower lip. He wanted to watch Web’s brow furrow in concentration. Joe started slowly jacking himself off, listening, and wishing he could see it.

 

“Shit,” Web swore.  

 

“You’re probably ready for another.” When they hit summer camp, Joe would be willing to beg to get Web to do this again. He wanted to see Web’s face when he found his prostate. Wanted to watch as Web worked himself open with his own hand. He wanted to push Web back onto the bed when he arched off of it. He wanted to do more than listen.

 

As Joe picked up a faster rhythm, he knew that Web was close. He could hear the breathy whine in the back of his throat. He knew that whine. He knew that when it broke, Web would be on the edge. He heard the whine break in half, followed by Web groaning, “Lieb”. Then Joe came all over his hand, stomach, and the bed sheets as he gasped, “Web”. He was shaking a little as he listened to Web’s rapid breathing on the other end of the phone. It felt like he laid there forever listening to Web’s breathing even out, but that was probably an exaggeration.

 

“We weren’t as bad at that as I thought we’d be,” Web said, still sounding breathy. “Of course, you did most of the work.”

 

“Next time it’s your turn.” Joe slurred his s, but damn did he feel good right now. “You can tell me what you’d do if you were here.”

 

“I’d be breathing on your collarbone because I’d have my head buried in your neck,” Web replied.

 

Joe smiled. It was a wonder what an orgasm could do to Web’s confidence. “I’d have my fingers in your hair.”

 

“I like that,” Web replied.

 

Joe smiled. “Yeah, your secret’s out.”

 

“Damn. I thought I did a good job of hiding that one,” Web joked.

 

Joe shook his head. “Nope, I hadn’t even gotten your pants off before I figured that one out.”

 

Web laughed on the other end of the phone and maybe that was the best sound he heard all night.

 

“I miss you,” Joe said. He wanted to say something else, but he didn’t want Web to think it was the orgasm talking.

 

“I miss you too.” Web didn’t even miss a beat when he replied. Maybe they were closer to the other thing then Joe thought.    



	7. Seven

Webster pulled his pillow tighter against his body. When he’d gotten back from class, he’d gotten right into bed.  He hadn’t taken off his uniform, he’d barely managed the energy to get off his shoes. He’d crawled into bed and had pulled the covers over his head. He didn’t know what time it was. The sun was no longer up. He did know that much. It must not have been too late or Leckie would be back. He probably missed dinner, but he wasn’t hungry. And he was absolutely not getting out of bed until maybe Monday when he had to go to class again. Go to class knowing that he’d failed an assignment.  
  


He knew that happened to students all the time. He knew that no one reacted as badly as he was right now. But they weren’t trying to get into Berkeley. And they didn’t just fail at the one thing that they thought they were good at. The one thing they were planning on turning into a career. He'd been confident in his writing. He wasn't anymore. Of all the assignments to fail, your life story shouldn't be one of them.  
  


He heard the dorm door open softly and close just as softly. For Leckie, who normally bounced the door off the wall, this was already a major concession. He felt the bed dip as Leckie sat down on it next to his hip.

  
“Webster, you have to get out of bed,” Leckie said. His voice was measured and even. It had the same soft placating tone that Webster used when Leckie was having one of his spells.   
  


The problem was that if Leckie had learned how play Webster’s part, Webster was equally prepared to play Leckie’s. Webster slid away from Leckie’s hand and pulled the covers tighter around himself. Webster heard Leckie sigh. “It's not the end of the world. Use your rewrite and  this time, blow so much smoke up his ass about how much you love your parents that it comes out his ears.”  
  


Had he been in a better headspace, Webster might have laughed at that joke.  
  


“You have to get out of bed sometime, Webster. You've already missed fuckin’ dinner. Not that you missed much, but still.” There was a pause before Leckie spoke again. “Hey, here's an idea. I'll call Hoosier, we’ll sneak out, and we’ll go anywhere you want. I'll buy you dinner, it’ll be fun. Come on, you gotta get out bed.”  
  


Webster could hear the desperation creeping into Leckie’s voice. This was normally Webster’s job. Webster was the one that pulled the covers back. Webster was the one that stood in front of Leckie holding out pills until Leckie took them. Webster was the one that threw clean clothes at Leckie and told him to get dressed and get his ass to class. When Leckie couldn't motivate himself, Webster did it for him.  
  
  


Webster heard the sound of his phone vibrating against his desk. It wasn't the first time he'd heard that sound since he'd encased himself in solitude. He knew who it was. He knew that Joe had gotten home from school and was calling because that's what he did nearly every day.  
  


“It's Joe.”  
  


Webster didn't even move.  
  


“Hey fuck face. It’s your goddamn boy friend, get up and answer the goddamn phone. He's fuckin’ called your ass three time already. Get up and let him know that you are fucking breathing.”  
  


Webster remained where he was.  
  


“You fucking asshole!” Leckie shouted. “You have a boyfriend that gives a shit about you. He calls you for no other fucking reason than because he loves you. If he knew you were upset, he'd want to do something about it. Even if he couldn't. You have friends that give a shit about you. If I had…”  
  


Leckie trailed off but Webster knew where he was going with that thought. Leckie was constantly jealous of the fact that Webster had friends, plural. On his good days, Leckie really only had Webster.  
  


“You are such a selfish bastard sometimes that I don't even want to know you. You are not alone in this, stop fuckin’ acting like it.”  
  


Leckie got up off the bed at that point. Webster thought maybe finally he was going to be left alone.  
  


“You are a good writer, Webster. Maybe you could be a great one. But we’ll never know if you quit now. So cut the pity party crap and call your fuckin’ boyfriend.”  
  


And that was the other half of Webster's job. The carrot to the stick. The encouragement that followed the tough love. The comments left on the crumpled scraps of poetry that Leckie left scattered around the room.  
  


It rarely worked on Leckie and it wasn't going to work on Webster. It wasn't going to work because Webster couldn't imagine calling Joe and telling him he was failing.  That because he thought he was a writer, because he thought he was clever, he had failed at something as simple as your life story. He'd jeopardized everything because he’d wanted to show off. All the hard work from his friends was going to be for nothing because Webster had wanted to show off. So he wasn't going to talk to Joe right now because Webster didn't want to admit that he'd screwed up the one job he had, to get good grades. All Webster had needed to do was write a normal story like everyone else, but he'd chosen this moment to have a problem with authority. He'd chosen now to let his pride override his reason.

  
So he was not going to call Joe and he was not going to get out bed because some failures were simply to gruesome to face.   

  
He’d thought Leckie was going to wait him out. But then he heard a sigh. There was movement around the room before he heard the door wrenched open followed by the loud slam of the door hitting the frame. With Leckie finally gone, Webster wrapped his arms around his chest and cried. After all, he'd had just the one job. Get good grades.   
  


*~*

 

Joe was becoming more pissed off with his boyfriend by the second. He bounced his foot off the floor, sighing. If he went to voicemail so help him, he was going to unload on Web. Because seriously, the fuck? At least let him know what he did wrong. Wasn’t that what they were doing now? The whole caring and sharing that did not at all come easy to Joe. It took a lot of work to get the point where he could just tell Web what was pissing him off rather than chewing on it for days.

 

He rolled to voicemail. “God fucking damn it.”

 

“Joseph,” his mother schooled from the hallway on the other side of Joe’s closed bedroom.

 

“Sorry,” Joe said, rolling his eyes. He glared at his phone. He reached to pick it up again, but withdrew his hand. No, he was not going to call Web back. Screw being the bigger person, old habits die hard. He’d just returned his attention back to his computer, resolving to avoid both his homework and his boyfriend until dinner.

 

He’d just actually started to succeed in this endeavor when the phone flashed Web’s name onto the screen. He considered letting it roll to voicemail because two can play at that fuckin’ game. Joe sighed, he’d never been good at waiting.

 

"So you’re talking to me now?”

 

“No, he’s not, but I thought you deserved to know what’s going on,” said a voice that Joe doesn’t recognize. It took him a minute to figure out that it was Leckie.

 

“So what, you just decided to play secretary for the afternoon?”

 

"You didn't do anything," Leckie replied. His voice was smooth and measured in a way that didn’t quite match the somewhat frantic personality that Web described.

 

"Then why won't he pick up the phone?" Joe responded, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice. Obviously something was wrong and Web had decided to take it out on him.

 

"He got a bad grade on a paper." He knew Leckie was evading, that he knew more than he was telling. So Joe did what he always did when someone was withholding information that Joe thought he needed, he pushed.

 

"How bad?" Because bad for Web was relative. Bad could be like a B.

 

"Kulnder gave him an F."

 

Joe didn't know what to say, he knew his eyes widened. He blinked rapidly trying to form a response. He didn't think such a grade was possible for Web. God, no wonder he wasn't answering. Web must be freaking out.

 

"With the rewrite, he can still get an A, but all the rest of his papers are going to have to be perfect," Leckie said. "He took it pretty hard, Joe."

 

"Ok," Joe said, figuring that was probably an understatement.  So much of who Web thought he was was tied to his writing. Any rejection, even if it was most likely bullshit from some teacher that hadn’t published anything in their life, was going to knock Web on his ass. "I'm going to send him something. Be on the lookout for a package."

 

"Ok, you take care. Let’s hope we don’t have to do this again anytime soon,” Leckie replied.

 

“Yeah, let’s not,” Joe said as he hung up and pulled on his light jacket. He dug around in his closet and found the Oxford Book of English Verse he'd been going to send Web for his birthday. It being November, Joe figured he had time to find something else. Web would probably need poetry now. He tucked the book under his arm and headed out the door, yelling to his mom he'd be back for dinner. There was a sputtered surprised response, but Joe was already too far out the door to care. He’d just pretend that he hadn’t heard if she was still ticked when he got home.

 

He stopped at a gas station and bought four king size Hershey bars, mostly because he just grabbed the stack until he hit cardboard. Hershey bars were their thing and maybe that would be comforting. Corny, but Joe could worry about his image when his boyfriend wasn’t having a meltdown. Besides, it wasn’t like Web was going to tell anyone. As he was waiting in line to pay, he noticed a rack of postcards. One was aerial shot of Berkeley's campus so he added that too.

 

He took a bus to the post office, bought a box there. He’d just gotten everything in there, packed with the free apartment ads that were in the lobby, when he figured he should probably write something on the postcard. He grabbed the black pen that was fixed to the table by a silver chain. He wiggled the pen so that the chain slid across the smooth blue counter.  He had no idea what to write. He had no idea what Web would find comforting, what he needed to hear. He bit his lip before settling.

 

_Fuck ‘em. You know your writing is good. Just do your time and get here._

 

He signed his name before he regretted all of this and went home. He used the tape at the counter to close the box and dug his phone out to get Web’s new address. He scribbled his own address in the corner. He lied about what was in it so he could ship it media mail, because there was a book in there, but the candy bars would not be allowed.  

 

As he walked out of the post office, he thought about texting Web that he was sending him something, but he decided maybe it was better left as a surprise. He decided to text Web anyway, just to let him know he was there. And that despite his earlier feelings, he wasn’t pissed as hell.

 

_Heading home to dinner. Call you later?_

 

To his surprise, the little dots appeared on his screen.

 

_Maybe tomorrow, today’s not a good day._

 

Joe frowned.

 

_I’ll call you after school._

 

The dots appeared and Joe thought at least that was something.


	8. Eight

A week after almost being rendered catatonic by a failed grade, Webster had managed, for the most part, to snap himself out of it. He could admit that he’d been a pain in the ass to live with. And probably to date. But the paper was done, he’d sold his soul, got the A he should have gotten the first time. And he was trying to make peace with this. Some days he was more successful at that than others. He was just getting back to his dorm from the library when he noticed that there was a plain brown box on his desk. He was surprised because he never got mail, no one in this room got mail, but when he picked up the box he knew who it was from. He’d recognize that compact, slightly dangerous, handwriting anywhere.

 

He was even more surprised now because Joe knew when his birthday was and Christmas was still a few weeks away. Sure, he’d already gotten Joe’s present picked out, but he hadn’t gone so far as to send it. Mostly because he knew Joe would tear it open with his teeth if he did.

 

Webster debated a moment before opening his desk drawer and retrieving his scissors. If Joe didn’t want him to open it, he should have known better than to send it almost a month early. He dragged the scissors along the sides of the box to cut the tape; Joe always tended to go a little overboard on that. When he finally got the box open, the first thing he was newspaper. Webster pulled out the crumpled balls of paper until he saw the navy cover of a book. The Oxford Book of English Verse. It was heavy and after opening the back cover, Webster discovered it had been released from a library. The saddest part of this was that it didn’t look like anyone had ever really loved this book.

 

Webster knew he would, even though he hadn’t even started turning the pages yet. He’ll love it because Joe listened, even when Webster was certain he was probably being tuned out. Webster had been enjoying the fact that his English four was devoted to British literature. He knew that he’d probably been droning on about it. Well, Leckie had complained, so that was something right there. So Webster had been almost sure Joe was no longer interested. Turns out Joe had been paying attention. That he’d been listening when Webster had said he was disappointed that the teacher wouldn’t be doing a poetry unit. And disappointed in Leckie for not being more outraged since of the two of them, he actually wrote poetry.

 

But Joe had taken Webster’s disappointment into account when he’d sent this. Webster traced his fingers over the impressed gold lettering, before setting the book aside to remove more of the paper. He then discovered that Joe had also included four Hershey bars. Webster smiled, walked over to his dresser, and put them in the back of his t-shirt drawer so he wouldn’t end up sharing them with Leckie. He returned to the box and removed the remaining paper just to make sure he hadn’t missed a candy bar when he found it.

 

Sitting at the bottom of the box was a postcard, a picture of Berkeley's campus. Webster picked up the card carefully, as if it were a delicate thing and it could very well shatter in his hands. Webster turned the card over to read what Joe had written on the back. Webster pulled his bottom lip over his teeth and he felt his eyes get hot. He turned the card back over to stare at the campus. He pulled a pin from his corkboard and pinned it up next to the postcard he’d gotten from the art museum. Berkeley and the coastline - his future, hopefully with Joe. Webster’s fingers moved over the new addition on the corkboard. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Joe’s number.

 

It wasn’t until the third ring that he realized that it was too early to call Joe because he was still in school. As the tinny automated voice informed him that the number he wanted to reach wasn’t available, Webster decided to leave a voicemail anyway. Thank Joe for the gift, tell him to call him later. And when he did, Webster could properly apologize for being a first rate jackass. That was not what happened though. What happened was that his heart over took his head and spilled feelings he hadn’t fully recognized into Joe’s voicemail.

 

“Hey, it’s me. I…uh got your care package today and I just wanted to tell you that I love you. And you don’t have to say it back. Right now I don’t know if I care if you ever say it back. I don’t need to hear it because I feel it. I feel loved and I think that’s what matters. So thank you and I love you and…um…I guess, call me when you get done with school.”

 

Webster hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment. Well, that was probably enough damage done for one afternoon. It wasn’t that he wanted to take it back, but it maybe hadn’t been the best idea to just drop that in a voicemail. But it was true, so maybe Joe needed to hear it anyway. Webster had meant what he said; he didn’t need to hear it back. Joe had always been more action orientated and his actions were speaking pretty loudly at this point. Webster favored words, sometimes his actions faltered. So he said it and meant it when he said he didn’t need to hear it.

 

His dorm room opened with a bang as Leckie returned from his meeting with the counselor. It spoke to how often this happened that Webster didn’t even jump.

 

“What you got there?” Leckie asked.

 

“Joe sent me poetry,” Webster said, holding up his book.

 

“Lucky,” Leckie said before he headed to his bed and crawled into his bed.

 

Webster nodded, determined not to let Leckie rain on his parade, because Lackie was right. He was lucky.  

 

*~*

 

When Joe got out of school, he noticed that he had a missed call and a voicemail from Web. This wasn’t completely weird. But it wasn’t normal either because normally whatever it was could wait until Joe got out of school. He decided to wait to listen to it when he got home, but as he walked home the whole way, he kept looking at the phone. He made it into his backyard before he started opening the voicemail and it had just started as he sat down on the porch steps.

 

At the beginning of the message, Web sounded unsure of himself, then his voice sped up and he said it. The one phrase that once you say it, you can’t take it back. After that, Web’s confidence seemed to find him as he explained that he didn’t need Joe to say it back. Web wavered a bit at the end as he stumbled over how to end the voicemail. When the recording ended, Joe just pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at it for a moment.

 

Web loved him.

 

Joe sat there on his back step and allowed the magnitude of that to sink in for a moment.

 

Web loved him.

 

It wasn’t that he was surprised; he knew that they were getting there. That it was a real possibility that someone was going to say it first. Joe had always envisioned it being Web. He just knew that he didn’t have it in him to go first.

 

And it wasn’t that Joe didn’t feel the same way. It had taken him a little longer it seemed, to sort out the difference between like and love. Now sitting here, listening to traffic pass his house, he was sure he loved Web too. There was just that final step that Joe just couldn’t quite take. The step between knowing it and saying it out loud. He wasn’t there yet. He knew he wasn’t because idea of calling Web back scared the crap out of him.

 

Web had said he didn’t need to hear it, that he felt it, but for how long was that going to be enough? It was hard not to feel a sudden pressure to return the feelings. Like all of a sudden, Joe was on the clock. He didn’t want to call Web back right away, he wanted more time, but he was out of school and he couldn’t leave Web out on a limb like that. Not after Web had crawled all the way out there. So he dialed the number and listened to it ring.

 

“’Ello?” Joe had to smile because from the sound of it, he’d woken Web up. He recognized that sleepy sound on the other end of the phone from when he’d called Web in middle of the night after he told his parents he wasn’t going to college.

 

“Did I wake you?” Joe asked.

 

“Yeah.” Joe could hear the shifting of covers in the background. “I was reading for physics.” There is a thick heavy yawn on the other end of the phone.

 

“So dramatic. It is not that bad,” Joe said. He actually liked physics. It didn’t even bother him that his mother kept turning it on him as a reason to go to college. Liking high school physics didn’t mean he should become an engineer.

 

“Yeah, I have the same teacher for it that I do for trig. I’ve come to hate just walking into that part of the campus,” Web replied. Joe could tell he was still trying to wake up. “How was school?”

 

“I got a B on the big test for the Scarlet Letter,” Joe replied.

 

“I’m so proud!” And Joe could almost hear the smile on the other end of the phone.

 

“My teacher said my answers were surprisingly insightful,” Joe said.

 

“Surprisingly?” Web parroted back, sounding offended on Joe’s behalf.

 

“That’s probably because I sit in the back of the class and don’t say a word unless she calls on me,” Joe said. “You’d normally not expect that kid to be insightful. Thanks for that, it was mostly your insight.”

 

“That’s disturbing stereotyping,” Webster muttered.

 

Joe smiled. He liked it when Web defended him. No, he loved it and he loved Web. He just couldn’t handle that last jump to saying it out loud. He just couldn’t do it. And he hated himself a little for that. Because Web deserved someone who could say it back.

 

“Well, I’m done with novels for a while,” Joe said. “Next semester, it’s all about writing a thirteen page paper for state testing. We have to write a paper explaining how something works or how to do something.”

 

“What are you going to write about?” Web asked.

 

“Next semester, Web. I’ll probably pick a topic in class when I’m asked for one.” Joe sighed. Web was such a nerd sometimes.

 

“That should cause you more anxiety than it does,” Web replied.

 

“What do you think I should write about?” Joe said. He dipped his voice, trying to make it sound like a come on.

 

“Wow,” Web replied. “Only you could make this sound dirty.”

 

“You love it,” Joe said.

 

“I love you,” Web replied. When Joe didn’t respond right away, Web continued, “I meant it, Joe. You don’t have to say it back.”

 

“I just…” Joe started before trailing off.

 

“You’ll get there,” Web said. “This isn’t a race. I don’t get points for coming in first.”

 

“You’re a pretty great boyfriend sometimes, you know that?” Joe replied.

 

There was a snort of laughter on the other end of the phone. “Well, I wasn’t last week. That was all you. So we’ll just keep trading off and on. This week I’ll have my shit together and next week you can take your turn. As long as only one of us freaks out per week, I think we’ll be ok.”  

 

Joe smiled. “Sounds like a plan. So beside physics, how is school?”

As Web talked about his classes, Joe found that he felt more comfortable. He wasn’t on the clock, he hadn’t lost any points, and he could get there all on his own.

 


	9. Nine

As Webster headed to the library, he was a little disappointed. He’d had his room all to himself and Joe’s parents had called him for dinner. They were going to try again later so he thought he’d get some research done in the meantime. He was just cutting through the building, when he saw a figure on one of the benches around campus. As he got closer he noticed it was Leckie. Which was weird considering that Leckie had snuck out that night. He hadn’t been gone nearly long enough. Normally when Leckie slipped out to see Hoosier, Webster was lucky if he saw his roommate again before midnight. It wasn’t even midnight. He started walking to towards him when he saw Leckie lift a bottle and take a long pull. Then Webster ran over there.

 

“Hey,” Leckie slurred. “If it isn’t my favorite roommate.”

 

“Leckie, I’m your only roommate,” Webster said, taking the bottle of vodka from Leckie’s had and depositing it in a nearby trash can.  

 

“Hey, I was going to finish that,” Leckie protested.

 

“That’s what I figured,” Webster said. He sat down on the bench next to his friend. “What happened?” Though Webster was pretty was pretty sure he knew what was going on.

 

“Had a fight with Hoosier,” Leckie said, leaning in Webster’s side.

 

Webster nodded; he had figured as much. “What do you say we go back to the room and you can tell me all about it.”

 

“You don’t care, you and your perfect boyfriend,” Leckie said, getting himself up with no small amount of effort and stumbling.

 

Webster couldn’t help it, he started laughing because no matter how much he may love Joe, perfect would never be a word he’d use to describe him. The humor of the situation was clearly lost on Leckie who glared at him.

 

“Joe’s great,” Webster said, getting it together. “But he’s not perfect.”

 

Leckie’s eyes narrowed. “He still gives a shit about you.”

 

“And so does Hoosier,” Webster countered.

 

Leckie made a disgusted noise and took off walking, Webster hurrying to catch up with him.

 

“He doesn’t give a shit about me,” Leckie muttered.

 

“I refuse to believe that,” Webster shook his head.

 

“I’m nothing but a warm mouth to him,” Leckie spat before he stumbled slightly.

 

Webster took hold of Leckie’s arm to steady him. “That’s not true.”

 

“How would you know?” Leckie said, trying to shove Webster, but ended tripping backwards.

 

Webster took hold of Leckie’s arms again and guided him back towards the sidewalk. “Because he drives an hour and twenty minutes to see you. It stands to reason there are closer mouths.”

 

“Not as good as mine,” Leckie said, and Webster could tell this was a source of pride.

 

“Ok, let’s get you back to the room,” Webster said, really hoping he could get through this without having another conversation about sex with his roommate.

 

“I give damn good blowjobs,” Leckie announced quite loudly given the subject.

 

“Say that any louder and someone is going to take you up on it,” Webster said, guiding Leckie down the sidewalk.

 

“Have you ever done it?” Leckie asked, looking a little more sober then he had any right too.

 

“That is really none of your business.” Webster blushed because he did not want to talk about blowjobs with Leckie.

 

“Aww, poor Joe,” Leckie said, tripping over seemingly his own feet.

 

“Hey, I don’t get any complaints,” Webster said, suddenly willing to let Leckie fall on his ass.

 

“Maybe not, but you could get more compliments,” Leckie said, righting himself before he fell. “Besides, if you try it you might like it. It’d play into all your controlling impulses.”

 

Webster stood there for a moment watching Leckie stagger ahead a bit. Leckie was really drunk, maybe this was the time for this conversation. It was doubtful Leckie would remember and maybe that would keep Webster from getting too embarrassed.  

 

“How do you keep from gagging?” Webster asked.

 

Leckie turned around and staggered a bit, the smile on his face was wide and slightly off center. “You gotta go slow, take it inch by inch.”

 

“And how do you keep that interesting?” Webster asked, still guiding Leckie back towards their dorm.

 

“Use your lips,” Leckie said, making a kissing noise.

 

Webster shoved him slightly.

 

Leckie just grinned. “And the underside of your dick is pretty much all nerves so trace over them with your tongue and he’s not going to give a shit how long it takes.”

 

Webster grabbed Leckie by the shoulders to keep him from walking into a trashcan.

 

“Rhythm is really important too,” Leckie said, looking over his shoulder with one of the most serious expressions Webster had ever seen on his face.

 

“Rhythm, got it.” Webster replied.

 

“Oh and you should probably hum at some point,” Leckie said. “For the vibrations and shit.”

 

Webster nodded, not entirely sure he could pull any of this off. He figured this was one area though that he would get points for trying.

 

“Ok,” Webster said, patting Leckie on the shoulder. “We are going to walk into the dorms now and I need you to try really hard to look sober.”

 

Leckie nodded as they walked inside to the elevator. Webster wasn’t even going to try the stairs, Leckie looked reasonably ok. When they got in the elevator, Leckie leaned hard against Webster and hiccupped. Webster couldn’t help but smile fondly. Getting down the hallway took some doing, Leckie was starting to crash so it was a race to get him to bed. When they got into their room, Leckie shucked his pants and crawled into bed. Webster dug around in his pockets until he found Leckie’s phone.

 

“Wow,” Webster said as he looked at the phone. “Fifteen texts is a lot from someone that doesn’t give a shit.”

 

“Fuck ‘im,” Leckie mumbled into his pillow.

 

“Maybe you’re being too hard on him, maybe he’s just bad at this,” Webster said, pulling the trashcan out from under Leckie’s desk.

 

“Don’t take his side,” Leckie said, breaking into what could only be described as a pout.

 

“I’m not. It just seemed like he was making you happy,” Webster said, setting the trashcan next to Leckie’s bed.

 

“He was,” Leckie said.

 

“So maybe give him a chance to do it again,” Webster said.

 

“Still my favorite roommate,” Leckie slurred. “I’ve had a lot of roommates.”

 

Webster frowned. “Get some sleep, ok?”

 

“Ok,” Leckie mumbled, already half way there.

 

Webster sighed, wondering where along way he started caring this much about Leckie. Caring enough that he was actually starting to worry about Leckie.

 

*~*

 

Joe was lying on his bed, face buried in a Batgirl comic when Web called. He slid his thumb across the phone without looking up from the comic.

 

“Hey you. Is this where you talk dirty to me?”

 

There was breathy laughter on the other end of the phone. “No because Leckie came home drunk and his snoring doesn’t really set the mood.”

 

“Drunk?” Joe said, more a little surprised. “How the hell did that happen?”

 

“Leckie is very resourceful,” Web replied. “I’ve learned that not only do I not want to ask those questions, I don’t really want the answers when they are volunteered. The less I know, the better so when dorm checks roll around, I can deny everything and be believed. I was actually a little disappointed; they don’t do a very good job. Leckie isn’t terribly good at hiding things and they still haven’t found anything. Here I was, googling how to build a false bottom to my dresser drawers and it turns out all you need here is neatly folded t-shirts.”

 

“That’s disappointing,” Joe said, putting the comic book on his nightstand. “What’s got Leckie drinking in the middle of the week?”

 

“He and Hoosier are having a fight,” Webster said.

 

“No, no, no, no, no,” Joe said, truly disappointed. “That bought us at least one night a week. They cannot break up.”

 

“Well, I don’t know that they broke up, but they are having a pretty major fight,” Web said.

 

“We have to get them back together,” Joe said.

 

“I’m pretty sure that’s something they have to figure out on their own,” Webster said, but he did sound exasperated.

 

“What’s got them at each other?” Joe asked.

 

“Leckie doesn’t think Hoosier cares about him. Or as he said very colorfully tonight, he doesn’t think Hoosier ‘gives a shit’. And I don’t know if he does or if he doesn’t, but…I don’t know. He drives all the way here from Hartford. That’s an awful lot of time and gas money for someone you don’t care about. But who knows, I’ve never even met the guy.”

 

There is a pause on the other end of the phone. It’s only for a couple of seconds. But in it, Joe kind of panics.

 

“You know I give a shit, right?” Joe said and he hated himself a little for how uncertain he sounded.

 

There wasn’t a pause. Joe barely got words out before Web responded, “Of course I do.”

 

Joe let out a breath in a rush.

 

“I have a very nice book on my desk that says very loudly my boyfriend gives a shit,” Webster said. “Don’t worry, Joe. I know what’s going on with us. I know you aren’t using me. To stick it out, to put up with all this, you’d have to give a shit. Like I told Leckie, there are a lot closer people you could have a relationship with.”

 

“Don’t say that, that’s bullshit. Don’t say that,” Joe said firmly. “I’m not looking, so shut the fuck up.”

 

“I know,” Web replied. “You can’t keep a secret. I think it’s remarkable that I don’t know what I’m getting for Christmas.”

 

Joe smiled. Web was right, he did have a hard time with that. So he’d told Grant a couple weeks ago that he’d gotten Web a personal library kit since Web had been complaining that their room was becoming a library.

 

“Besides, I’m pretty sure your charming personality would scare most everyone off,” Webster said.

 

“And you are such a catch,” Joe replied sarcastically.

 

“Why thank you,” Webster said. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”

 

Joe couldn’t help it, he laughed.  

 

“You know I’m not looking either right? No one here is as interesting as you,” Web said. “I’d like to see you come here and shake things up a little.”

 

“I’d probably get us both kicked out,” Joe replied.

 

“Sounds great. When do we start?” Web asked.

 

“You’re just saying that because you have trig tomorrow and your roommate is drooling into his pillow. Once you get to English, you’ll realize that this school will look good on your Berkeley application.”

 

“You’re going to have to do a lot more of that as finals get closer,” Web said. “It’s getting a little overwhelming. I feel like it just keeps coming and it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

 

Joe frowned and rather than cheerleading, he decided perhaps to take a different track.

“Whether you get into Berkeley or not, we are going to live together your sophomore year. If you end up at a junior college in the middle of Nebraska, we are going to live together. That is the joy of my career path, I can cut hair anywhere.”

 

There was a pause on the other of the phone before Webster spoke. “That is strangely helpful.”

 

“I thought it might be. Also, you’re pretty smart and you worry too much,” Joe said.

 

“Is that pretty and smart or are you quantifying my intelligence?” Webster asked.  

 

“Stop fishing for compliments, it’s not as cute as you think it is,” Joe answered.

 

Webster laughed and it was a pleasant sound.  “I should study.”

 

“If you say so,” Joe said.

 

“I’ll call you tomorrow and you can inflate my ego again.” Web sounded like he meant it and if he did, Joe will be happy to. Web was smart and Joe will be happy to tell him.

 

“I’ll be here.”

 

“And I love you for it,” Web said.

 

Joe’s heart beat a little faster and he chickened out. “I miss you.” It was as far as he could get right now and he trusted that Web would understand.

 

“I miss you too,” Web replied without hesitation. “The semester is almost over. We will be in summer camp before we know it.”

 

“It’s a good thing they made Hoob the cabin leader because we are hardly going to spend any time there.”  

 

“Promise?” Web said, his voice was light and teasing.

 

Joe smiled. “We’ll claim the swim dock as ours.”

 

Listening to Web laugh, Joe knew they would be ok. They had a lot to overcome and a lot of work yet to do. But they could do it together and that was what mattered.

 


	10. Ten

Joe ran up the stairs after saying goodbye to his parents. They were going over to a friend’s house and were going to be gone for a couple of hours. Web’s finals finished yesterday. They had a green light for phone sex and he was going to damned if they missed it. As he opened his bedroom door, he was already calling Web’s number. He locked the door when Web picked up.

 

“So is this where you talk dirty to me?” Web said by way of greeting.

 

Joe smiled. “Oh no, writer boy. This time you do all the work. Come on, my parents are gone, we’re alone in my room. What do you do?”

 

There was silence on the other end of the phone, but Joe waited. Web could do this, Joe just had to be patient. “Um…ok” Web struggled. “We’re lying on your bed-”

 

“Ok,” Joe said, plopping into his bed and causing the springs to creak underneath him.

 

“I’m mouthing your neck,” Web said uncertainly.

 

Joe sighed into the phone. It was a little exaggerated, but he figured Web could use the encouragement and he did like where this was going.

 

“I drag my teeth along your collarbone.” Web sounded more confident this time.

 

“I take my shirt off,” Joe said and his action mirrored his words as he tossed his black t-shirt over the side of the bed.

 

“I take your left nipple into my mouth,” Web relied.

 

Joe rolled his nipple between his thumb and finger. He gasped and his hips thrusted upwards. “I run my fingers through your hair and pull.”

 

Web whined on the other end of the phone.

 

“You have your hand in your pants yet?” Joe asked.

 

“Not yet,” Web replied.

 

“It doesn’t get you off? Telling me what you would do with me?” Joe knew he was laying it on a little thick, but he wanted Web to enjoy this too.

 

“I makes me nervous,” Web confided.

 

“Well, my fingers are tracing along your waistband,” Joe said. “Want me to flip us over? Press you back into my sheets?”

 

There was an intake of breath on the other end of the phone.  

 

“I’ll take that as yes,” Joe smiled. “I’ll flip you over, but then what should I do with you? Should I stick my hand inside your pants or-”

 

There was a loud bang on the other end of the phone, followed by a hasty apology and the door closing loudly again.

 

“Oh god,” Web said and it was not in the fun way Joe had been hoping for.

 

“Roommate?” Joe asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

 

“Yes, oh my god,” Web replied. “I should go.”

 

“No, no, no,” Joe responded.  “We can fix this, we can get the mood back.”

 

“Oh no, we cannot,” Webster said emphatically. “The mood is dead, Joe. No hope of a resurrection.”  

 

Joe’s eyes narrowed at the challenge even though Web couldn’t see him. “You’re saying if I was there with you in bed, naked, pressing you into the mattress, you’d let someone walking in on us kill the mood?”

 

“This is not going work,” Web said, though Joe could feel him wavering.

 

“Not even if my fingers were in your hair? If I pulled you by your hair into a kiss while I rocked my hips down into you?”

 

“Joe,” Web whined into the phone and they were back to sexy noises.

 

“You love it when I pull your hair, don’t you? When I get controlling? Is that what does it for you?” Joe knew the answer. He knew that while Web can top with the best of them, there is a sub streak there that every once in a while can be convinced to come out and play. Joe appreciated his versatile boyfriend.

 

“Makes me-”Web gasped and Joe knew he was right back with him. “Makes me feel safe.”

 

“Shit, Web,” Joe swore because he hadn’t seen that answer coming.

 

“Too much?” Web asked.

 

“No,” Joe said because he didn’t have it in him to punish Web for his own insecurities. He didn’t know what to do with that kind of trust. He knew what he could do with it and maybe that would be enough. “You know I’ll take care of you. That I’ll jerk you off nice and slow.”

 

“You too,” Web’s voice shook a bit. “I take you in hand.”

 

“I slide my thumb over the head of your cock.” Joe narrated his own movements, his creativity was starting to fail him.

 

“I bite your shoulder,” Web said.

 

“Fuck,” Joe swore as his hips snapped towards his hand.

 

Web panted into the phone. “Lieb.”

 

“Mine,” Joe replied.

 

“Yes, fuck,” Web moaned.

 

After that, conversation dissolved into moaning, gasps for air, Webs, Liebs, and collection of swear words. Web came with a broken moan that dissolved into a whine. Joe followed and cried Web’s name as he did so. They lay there panting for moment and listened to the other one breathe.

 

“If I end up with an exhibition kink after this, I’ll kick your ass,” Web said.

 

Joe laughed. “We spend the summer having sex in public, I’m pretty sure you already have one.”

 

“I am never going to be able to look Leckie in the eye again,” Web said and Joe could feel the embarrassment creeping back in.

 

“Well, he probably won’t think you’re a prude anymore,” Joe reasoned.

 

“I don’t know that I thought it was a bad thing that he did,” Web replied.

 

“I do,” Joe said. “I am having sex and it doesn’t bother me if people know that.”

 

“Well, I’m glad your ego is no longer bruised,” Web said.

 

“Sorry that made you uncomfortable,” Joe said, because he could tell that Web was little pissed that he wasn’t also mortified. “But it was probably bound to happen sooner or later, we aren’t exactly careful. It could have been worse. It could have happened at camp.”

 

“Yeah,” Web conceded. “I don’t think I could get it up again if Winters walked in on us.”

 

Joe laughed. “Lip would be weirder.”

 

“Oh no, that’s like your older brother walking in on you. Winters or Nix and it might as well be your parents.”

 

“Speaking of parents, mine will be home soon,” Joe said. “We going to do this again?”

 

There is a pause that Joe doesn’t care for.

 

“I’m going to be self-conscious, but drag me though it, ok?”

 

Joe smiled. “I can do that.”

 

“I know you can,” Web replied and Joe was pretty sure they’ll be ok.

 

*~*

 

Webster was sitting at his desk, trying not feel sorry for himself. His parents had said that they were going to Aruba for Christmas. He’d been a little surprised at the family togetherness. Two weeks later, he’d been informed that they couldn’t get rooms for the boys so Anne would be the only one going. Webster was really trying not to be bitter. If he had to stay for Christmas break, at least Leckie was stuck here with him. Leckie’s parents had just been indifferent so he’d said fuck it, he’d just stay here. They had the whole floor to themselves and the closest RA was two floors down. That would be more fun of course if Leckie would pull his head out of his ass and make up with Hoosier. Of course, since he and Joe had spent the better part of three months not talking to each other last year, he didn’t really have any room to judge.

 

Webster was about to go down to the student lounge and spread out on one of sofa to read, just because he could and there wasn’t going to be anyone else down there, when Joe’s name popped up on his phone stopped him.

 

“Hello,” Webster said. He was sitting on the floor in front of his book shelf while he tried to sort through his books, sorting out the ones he was going to try and read over the break.

 

“Hey you. So I got this box full of comics today,” Joe said.

 

“Goddamn it, Joe. Did you open them? Those were for Hanukkah.” Webster had waited until the last possible moment to order those comics because he knew Joe wouldn’t be able to hold off opening them.

 

“Hey, I didn’t open them, but Amazon didn’t exactly hide what they were wrapping. I’m pretty invested in packages that are this size,” Joe said.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Webster replied.

 

“Second, you know there are only eight days in Hanukkah right?” Joe asked.

 

“Yeah,” Webster said. “I sent you a Christmas present too.”

 

Joe laughed on the other end of the phone. “You’re going to make me wait that long to open the last of them? I guess that means the graphic novel is for Christmas then?”

 

“You don’t know that is-”

 

“Web,” Joe said, cutting him off.

 

“Ok, but you don’t know which one it is,” Webster said.

 

“I could,” Joe said teasingly.

 

“If you open those early, I’m going to be really pissed at you.” Webster said.

 

Joe sighed in defeat. “Fine, I’ll wait until tomorrow.”

 

“Thank you,” Webster said, shaking his head.

 

“So how’s it going being the only inmates in the asylum?”

 

“Well, the food has gotten even worse,” Webster replied. “But our RA’s gone so that’s improved Leckie’s mood a bit.”

 

“He and Hoosier still-”

 

“Yeah,” Webster cut in. “It’s gotten so bad I don’t even mention him anymore. It’s just safer. Conversations about Hoosier either end with getting the silent treatment or with angry outbursts.”

 

“I’m starting to lose hope on the phone sex,” Joe said.

 

Webster couldn’t help the snort of laughter. He wasn’t sure how he was going to respond because the bang of the door hitting the wall caused him to jump.

 

“I’ll call you back later,” Joe said, because now he knew what that noise meant.

 

“Sounds good,” Webster said before he hung up the phone.  

 

“Your stupid boyfriend sent you a Christmas present,” Leckie said as he tossed a box on Webster’s desk.

 

“Watch the adjectives, asshole,” Webster said, getting up off the floor with The Old Man and the Sea in his hand.

 

“Oh, someone is touchy today,” Leckie said, flopping down onto his bed.

 

“Has it occurred to you that maybe the reason that you find my relationship offensive is because you fucked up your own?” Webster asked. He knew that this line of questioning was only going to start a fight, but nobody got to call Joe stupid.

 

“What part of this is fuckin’ my fault?” Leckie snapped.

 

“The part where you aren’t talking to him. He used to text you every day. Past tense because you weren’t fucking answering. I’m a little surprised he kept up it up that long,” Webster replied. “I don’t know that I would have.”

 

That was a lie. He would have. He did. For about two months. But Leckie didn’t need to know that. Leckie seemed under the opinion that Webster and Joe were perfect and Webster was fine letting him think that.  

 

Leckie didn’t say anything back. He just glared at the end of his bed as if the footboard had done something to offend him personally.

 

“Look, you are an easier person to be around when you are with him, so for god’s sake, let him off the hook. If I thought that he didn’t care about you, I’d be the first person telling you to dump him because you deserve someone that cares about you. It’s obvious he gives a shit. Just because he doesn’t spend his night writing you sonnets doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. So he’s bad at emotions, you’re not perfect either. So what do you say about answering the last text he sent you even though it came like a month ago? And if he can overlook that, maybe consider giving him another shot at this.”

 

Leckie made a grumbling noise.

 

“Ok, fine. Ignore me, but you were happier when you were with him,” Webster said. “You were happy and Leckie, that doesn’t happen enough that you should be pushing something away that causes it.”

 

Webster grabbed one of his cardigans off the back of the door and made sure he had his keys in his pocket. As he left, he noticed that Leckie had pulled his phone out of his pocket and Webster decided to pretend he didn’t see it.

 

As he walked down the hallway, he sent a text to Joe.

 

_We have contact. Reconciliation to follow?_

 

When he got to the lounge, he received a reply.

 

 _I don’t even know these people and I want them to get back together._  

 

Webster smiled. That was about where he was too.

 


	11. Eleven

 

Webster was glad to back in the swing of things, back in classes, and back working towards his goals. Besides, everyday was one more down and one more closer to summer camp. As he walked down the hall to his dorm room, he noticed the RAs standing around outside a room. As he passed the room, he noticed that it was being searched. After that Webster walked a little faster, because in the absence of supervision, they had gotten a little lax about the hiding. He made it to his door and unlocked it quickly and what he saw on the other side of the door surprised him just a bit.

 

Leckie was on his bed, lying on his back, still in his uniform and his shirt was unbuttoned. On top of him was boy with a messy dirty blond hair and blue eyes. His shirt was off and had been tossed on the floor. He was holding Leckie’s belt in his hand like he was pulling it loose of his pants. They were both staring at him owlishly like somehow this was all his fault. And that’s when he lost his temper.

 

“I hurried down here to tell you to hide the alcohol and you have a person in here. An actual person. Leckie, oh my god,” Webster said, and he knew he sounded a little hysterical, but god damn it, they could get expelled.

 

“This is Hoosier,” Leckie said, like that fixed anything.

 

“Wonderful to meet you,” Webster said. “Leckie they are going to take our stuff and throw it into the street.”

 

The endorphins seemed to be leaving Leckie’s body and logic and reason seemed to be returning.

 

“You have to go,” Leckie said, tapping Hoosier on the chest.

 

“What? I just got here,” Hoosier said and Webster could appreciate that, but they were on borrowed time.

 

“Yeah, but he’s right,” Leckie said as he twisted his way out from underneath Hoosier. Leckie got out of bed and tossed Hoosier his t-shirt.

 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Hoosier said as he caught the shirt.

 

“The fire escape,” Webster said, because knowing these two, they could go on like this for hours. “Let’s just get him out on to the fire escape, get through the inspection, and then you two can sort all this out. I’ll even go to the library.”

 

The two of them seemed to exchange glances before Hoosier sighed. “Fine.” Hoosier sighed again as he grabbed his jacket off the back of Leckie’s desk chair. “You owe me so big for this,” he said has he crawled out the window.

 

“That’s more than fair,” Leckie said, pushing the window closed behind him.

 

“Leckie you need to...” Webster said, gesturing up and down himself. Leckie’s shirt was still open and rucked up out of his pants. His belt was also still half pulled out of his pants.

 

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Leckie said, trying to right his shirt.

 

Webster rolled his eyes and started getting his things to get ready to go to the library. “Glad to see you two made up.”

 

“I know, right?” The lopsided smile was back on Leckie’s face as he worked his belt back through his pants.

 

Webster couldn’t help it, he smiled too.

 

The moment was broken by a knock at the door. Webster sat down at his desk and opened his physics book to a random page. Leckie took a deep breath and opened the door. Standing on the other side of the door was probably the worst option as far as RAs go. Since the beginning of school year, Leckie and the RA for their floor, Tom Larkin, had been going back and forth. Webster, for his part, had been trying to stay out of the way.

 

“Dorm inspections,” Larkin said, his tone even. It was a tone that conveyed boredom, rather than Sobel’s manic tone of a Bond villain. That was probably because Larkin wasn’t trying to bust Leckie for sneaking things on to campus, but rather for sneaking off it. So having Leckie answer the door was disappointing for the RA.

 

“Be my guest,” Leckie said, gesturing into the room with a fake little half bow. Webster rolled his eyes, but at this point, any conversation about not antagonizing Larkin was going to fall on deaf ears.

 

Larkin and another RA that Webster recognized from the first floor started searching the room. They started with the closets and after moving things around a bit, moved on. Webster fought the urge to let out a sigh of relief since he knew there was a fifth of a Jack hidden inside the pocket of one Leckie’s coats. The dresser came next and Webster held his breath as his t-shirt drawer was opened before being closed just as quickly. The problem came when they reached the footlocker.

 

As things had heated up between Leckie and Hoosier before their fight, Leckie had gotten a box of condoms mailed to him. When it arrived, the contents of the box where broken up and hidden around room. In fact, Webster had about four of them taped to the under sider of his desk. So if you reached inside the drawer and felt up inside, you’d find them. Leckie had some in his wallet, behind his headboard, and in his underwear drawer. So the strip that Larken found inside Leckie’s footlocker wasn’t even a fourth of the box. But the fact that Larkin was going to get one over on Leckie caused the anger to rise in Leckie’s eyes.

 

“Well, what do we have here?” Larken questioned as he held the strip of four condoms towards Leckie’s face.

 

To Leckie’s credit, he didn’t reach out and try to grab them. He just tilted his head in a questioning manner. “I don’t know, sir. What do they look like?”

 

“Are you getting smart with me?” Larken replied.

 

It was at that moment that Webster could see this wasn’t going anywhere good. “Jesus,” he said. “I didn’t think you and Stella were that serious?”

 

It was a good thing that Larkin and the other RA turned to look at Webster when he spoke because the look on Leckie’s face would have given them away. Though Webster supposed that confusion was called for since Webster had just accused Leckie of wanting to sleep with a girl from his support group. He did manage to school his features by the time Larkin turned back around.

 

“You’re going to be written up for this,” Larkin said, shaking the condoms in Leckie’s face again before he left, the other RA following behind him.

 

Webster breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed, with only half of their room having been searched. He was pretty sure Leckie had a carton of cigarettes hidden around here somewhere too.

 

“That was some smart thinking,” Leckie said. “Now when my parents get the write up notice, they’ll think I have a girlfriend. They’ll be so pleased, they might even overlook the write up.”

 

“Speaking of that,” Webster said, pointing to the window. “Can you please get your boyfriend off our fire escape?”

 

“Yeah, Jesus,” Leckie said, walking across room and opening the window.

 

“Fuckin’ Christ. Do you have any idea how cold it is out there?” Hoosier said as he crawled back through the window. His shirt was back on and he had his jacket pulled tightly around himself.

 

“It’s not my fault they did a dorm check,” Leckie countered. “Who was the one that just decided to turn up on campus in the middle of the night?”

 

“Library,” Webster said, again forced to cut into the bickering. “I’m going to library. It closes at ten so it would super if you could get this sorted out by then.” Webster didn’t wait for a response, he just collected his things and headed out the door. It crossed his mind that this wasn’t exactly a great first impression, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit.

 

*~*

 

Joe was sitting at his desk, trying to get caught up on the Walking Dead, even though the show no longer even pretended that it was based on the comics he loved, when Web called.

 

“Hey you,” Joe said as he paused the show.

 

“Well, you’ll be pleased to know that Leckie and Hoosier have mended their fences,” Web said by way of greeting. “And he owes me so big so we will be having phone sex sometime this week.”

 

“Yes,” Joe said and he couldn’t help a celebratory fist pump.

 

“Yeah,” Web said, not quit sounding as excited as Joe was. “And somehow we managed to even the score of walking in on each other.”

 

“He was on campus?” Joe was in state of disbelief; he hadn’t known Leckie was that brazen.

 

“Yep, on top of my roommate in the process of taking off his pants,” Webster said. “I got there just in time to avoid being scarred for life.”

 

Joe tried to hide his snicker of laughter because he could tell Web was not in the mood. “Hey, out of curiosity did you find out what his name is?”

 

“You know, Joe, I didn’t get a chance. I was a little bit more concerned about getting him out the window and onto the fire escape,” Web responded.

 

“Fire escape? Wait, I missed something,” Joe said as he tried to retrace the conversation to find the moment where he lost it.

 

“Oh yeah, that’s because I hadn’t gotten to part where they were doing dorm checks and Leckie was three doors away from getting caught with his pants down, not by me, but by our RA,” Web exhaled loudly into the phone.

 

“Jesus,” Joe swore.

 

“Yeah, so we got him out on to the fire escape just in time. I mean, Leckie’s still going to get written up, but at least they didn’t find his half naked boyfriend in our room.” Joe could tell that Web was still pretty shook up because normally he was better at crafting a story.

 

“What did he get written up for?”

 

“Larkin found four condoms in Leckie’s footlocker,” Web said. “That’s pretty good considering all the other shit we have in our room. If he’d gotten around to moving the bed, he’d have found the porn Leckie has under his mattress.”

 

“Yeah, but condoms implies another person,” Joe reasoned.

 

“Yeah, but condoms could still imply a girl,” Web said. “That’s not the kind of porn we are talking about. I don’t think Mr. and Mrs. Leckie would be thrilled to find out their son is in possession of gay porn.”

 

“At least with condoms they could think he was using them with a girl,” Joe filled in.

 

“Yeah and I told Larkin he was,” Web said.

 

“Woah, you lied and someone believed you?” Joe was impressed.

 

“Larkin was just happy to catch Leckie with something. He wasn’t really paying attention to me.” Joe could tell Web was a little embarrassed. “I just wanted him to move on, because knowing Leckie, he’d have started something that would get him into more trouble. And as weird as it sounds, you were right. He has grown on me and I don’t want him to get kicked out. We have similar interests, but it’s more than that. In a way, we are here for the same reason.”

 

“Because you didn’t turn out just like mommy and daddy wanted?” Joe asked for clarification.

 

“Because we have boyfriends,” Web clarified.

 

At that moment, Joe felt like a dead weight had just dropped into his stomach. He hated being reminded that even if Web’s parents didn’t know about the two of them, what little they did know had caused them to ship Web off to the big house. Every time he was, it always made him want to tell Web, ‘fuck it, I’m not worth it. Make nice with your parents and maybe they will let you come home.’

 

“You’re thinking too hard,” Web said.  

 

“Huh,” Joe said.

 

“I can hear you beating yourself up on the other end of the phone,” Web responded. “I told you, I’m not going to let them scare me into falling in line. I’m going to school where I want to go school. I want to go school with you and they are not going to intimidate me into doing what they want. I’m done trying to make them happy because they never are. And every once in a while I do manage to make you happy.”

 

Joe could tell by Web’s tone of voice at the end that he was teasing, but he decided that if Web was going to offer out his feelings then Joe should maybe return the sentiment. “You make me happy. And I was serious, I can cut hair anywhere. Why not tell them that you changed your mind and you’ll go to Harvard. Give me time to get through school and I’ll move out there.”

 

“Because I don’t want to go to Harvard.” Web said like it was such a simple thing. “I want to go to Berkeley, I want to go to a liberal college, I want to live near a warm ocean, and I want to be near you. When I move out there, my parents are going to pay my tuition, they are going give me money for expenses, and they would pay my rent if I wanted to live off campus. I know this because they are doing it for my older brother. When I move out there, I’ll be taken care of. I’m not going to ask you to move out here with no support system. Hell, Joe. You won’t even be able to live with me.”

 

“What about your support system?” Joe asked.

 

“That’s you,” Web said without missing a beat. “And Grant forty minutes away, and Hobb on speed dial. I’m pretty sure I could probably fold Leckie in there when he’s in the right headspace, but that’s it, Joe. That’s my support system. Before you three turned up, I was pretty much going it alone.”

 

To hear Web say that out loud hurt Joe in ways that he wasn’t sure he could articulate.

 

“You’re worth it,” Wed said. “I know you don’t…you’re worth it.”

 

“Seriously,” Joe said in disbelief. “I don’t see how.”

 

“I know,” Web said. “We’ll work on that.”

 

Joe sighed, but he knew better than to argue with Web once he set his mind on something.


	12. Twelve

Joe waited and listened to the tinny rings as he stared down the possibility of leaving Hoob a voicemail. He groaned. His website development teacher was kind of an asshole. He was absolute shit at explaining things. And most of the time Joe just read through the chapter and figured it out by trial and error. This week he seemed to have finally met his match; divs did not seem to be one of those things he could teach himself. Hence the phone call to Hoob, which it seemed like he was going to be ignored.

 

“Hello.” Hoob sounded a little out of breath.

 

“Do I even want to know what you were doing?” Joe asked.

 

“I was on Skype,” Hoob said and it was crystal clear that he was hiding something.

 

“With who?” Joe said, because Hoob, as a rule, did not have secrets and this was an exciting development.

 

“No one.” Yeah, he was clearly hiding something.

 

Joe made a considering noise. He had two choices. He could continue to push or he could ask his question. If he kept pushing, there was a chance that Hoob would just hang up. "Ok, Hoob. Lay it on me.  What the hell is a div?"  But in asking the question first, Joe was not giving up on the other thing. He still planned on finding out what was going on there.

 

"Well, a div is an empty box that you put things in."

 

Joe sighed loudly into the phone. “You know, that’s funny because that’s exactly what it says in my textbook. Did you know I learned to read in kindergarten? Also, I can tie my own shoes.”

 

"Ok, ok, sorry...so you were making your layouts out of tables, right? Well, that is really bad programming in html now, so divs are what replaced it. Basically, you are creating your layout by making these invisible boxes with way more control thanks to CSS."

 

"See, why didn’t you just start there, I know what that is! Yeah, we learned it last week, or I taught myself that last week. My teacher is still a dick. So is this where you can make all the links different colors instead of the default blue underlined? And you use the squiggle brackets and semicolons and stuff?"

 

"Exactly!" Hoob sounded proud.  "So divs are defined in size, position, color and all that fun stuff by CSS.  Just remember, they aren't seen until you put some dummy text in first.  Also, I always put a border on my div and change the background color so I can see what it's doing until I have my layout the way I want it before changing it to my color scheme. And remember for colors-"

 

"No more than three distinct colors for a color scheme. If you need more, use shades of those three colors" interrupted Joe.  "I remember. I know that was like a month ago, but my memory is not that short.” And after a moment’s consideration, he decided he should probably thank Hoob. After all, it wasn’t his fault that Joe’s teacher was making this harder than it should be. “Thanks, Hoob."

 

“You’re welcome, Lieb,” Hoob replied.

 

Joe counted to three before he asked. “So who were you talking to?”

 

“Someone from one of my classes. You don’t know them.” Hoob practically squeaked the first word.

 

“Uh huh,” Joe said. “So why so evasive?”

 

“Who’s being evasive?” Hoob still sounded like he was being called into the principal’s office.

 

“You sound cagey as fuck right now,” Joe observed. “What are you hiding?”

 

“Nothing,” Hoob answered a little too quickly.

 

“Does Web know?” Joe asked, figuring there was more than one way to figure out what he wanted to know.

 

“No,” Hoob said, and it was almost cute that he thought that sounded convincing.

 

“Ok, I’ll just call Web. Thanks for the help with divs,” Joe said.

 

“He’s not going to tell you,” Hoob said.

 

“Hoob,” Joe said, shaking his head. “Do you really think Web is going to be able to lie to me? Or anyone for that matter?”

 

There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. “Ok, but no laughter.”

 

“Cross my heart,” Joe swore.

 

“I was talking to my girlfriend.” Hoob said this statement with all the enthusiasm of someone about to have their teeth drilled.

 

“Really?” Joe was a little surprised, since over the course of the year, Hoob had managed to keep a girlfriend from him. And Web too, which was more surprising.

 

“Don’t sound so surprised, I can find a date if I want one.” Hoob had clearly gotten his feelings hurt.

 

“I wasn’t. I’m just surprised I missed that and that Web didn’t tell me,” Joe said.

 

“Web can keep a secret; it’s outright lying he was a problem with,” Hoob said.

 

“So what’s her name?” Joe asked, trying to keep his tone free of anything that sounded like mocking.

 

“Mackenzie,” Hoob said, with a certain amount of pride that was cute.

 

“Did she fall out of the sky one day or…” Joe trailed off, elongating the last word.

 

“She’s in my programing class,” Hoob said.

 

“Great, what’s her number? I’ll call her next time I have a question,” Joe said. “Maybe she won’t start by reciting the definition to me.”

 

“I said I was sorry,” Hoob said. “And I am absolutely not giving you my girlfriend’s number.”

 

“Why? It’s not like I’m going to steal her?” Joe asked. “Or are you worried I’ll tell her about the time you crashed an ATV into a tree?”

 

“Hey, that was Penkala. I was just along for the ride,” Hoob said.

 

“And don’t you regret that decision?” Joe said.

 

Hoob laughed. “Yeah, everything just kinda spun out of control after that.”

 

“You should find out what that girls’ camp on the other side of the lake is called,” Joe said. “See if Mackenzie has summer plans. It can’t be that hard to get over there.”

 

“She goes to cheer camp,” Hoob said.

 

“Christ, Hoob. You found a cheerleader that is into programing? Did you order her out of a catalog?” Joe asked.

 

“Yeah, no. There’s this website-“ Hoob didn’t finish what he was saying because they both dissolved into laughter.

 

“Aww, does that mean you are going to take her to prom?” Joe said. This time he was teasing, because he had to tease him about prom.

 

“Rented my tux yesterday,” Hoob said.

 

Joe whistled.

 

“Yeah, my mother is pretty excited-“ And then Hoob stopped.

 

“You’re allowed to please your mom, Hoob,” Joe said.

 

“Sorry. That just felt dickish,” Hoob said. “Here I am bragging about prom and you and Web aren’t going together.”

 

“Hoob, even if Web lived down the street, I would not be going to prom,” Joe said.

 

“Yes, you would. Web would make you,” Hoob replied.

 

“And I have never been more grateful for the continent between us then I am right now,” Joe replied.

 

Hoob laughed. And Joe had missed this, he missed the camaraderie. It was nice to be reminded that Web wasn’t the only part of summer camp to look forward to.

 

*~*

 

When Webster had made his list of people that he wanted to ask for a letter of recommendation, Charles Grant was fairly high up on the list. One) because Webster thought Grant would actually write a thoughtful letter; and two) if you were to make a list of people that had played an impact on Webster’s development, Grant would be fairly near the top. So that was why Webster was listening to Grant’s phone ring.

 

“Well, this is a trip. Normally it’s your other half that calls me,” Grant said by way of greeting. That was true. Normally Webster would email Grant, recognizing that he was a busy college student. But they had been advised to reach out personally to the people that they were asking for letters from.

 

“I thought I might mix it up a bit,” Webster replied. “And I have a small favor to ask.”

 

“Sure go for it,” Grant said, in that relaxed way of his that made Webster feel at ease.

 

“Would you be willing to write me a letter of recommendation to go with college applications? I’m applying for a couple of scholarships and they have asked for letters,” Webster said, trying to sound confident that Grant wouldn’t turn him down.

 

“Yeah, send me the form and everything so I know who I’m writing too,” Grant said, like Webster hadn’t just asked for something important. “You could probably ask Speirs and Lip for one too.”

 

“I don’t have Lip’s number,” Webster replied. “And I just can’t see asking Speirs for a letter of recommendation, or anything really for that matter.”

 

There was a snort of laughter on the other end of the phone. “Well, you're missing out because they are pretty good. He has a way of spinning all the awful shit you did at camp and make it sound like worthwhile personality traits.”

 

“Or maybe he just does that for you,” Webster said, because it was fairly clear by the end of that first summer that Speirs had a favorite and it was Grant.

 

Grant made a noncommittal noise. “Well, he did it for Tab, so I think it’s more of a cabin thing.”

 

“I’ve convinced a couple of my English teachers to write letters and I thought that they might be more helpful since I have to submit a short story with these as well,” Webster hedged.

 

“Chicken,” Grant replied.

 

“Yep and I am comfortable with that,” Webster replied.

 

Grant laughed. “So what are you going to write about?”

 

“I have no freakin’ idea, but they are offering me money for fiction, which is more than teachers are doing so I’m going to give it a try,” Webster said.

 

“So what is this? Plan B?” Grant said. “If your parents won’t pay for Berkeley, you’ll do it yourself?”

 

“Something like that,” Webster replied.

 

“How realistic is it that you can pay for school with writers’ scholarships?” Grant asked.

 

“Not very,” Webster admitted. “But the more scholarships I can get, the less I have to borrow in student loans from the bank or the government.”

 

“Joe is not going to like the idea of you borrowing money to pay for school when you wouldn’t have to do that if you went to Harvard,” Grant stated the obvious.

 

“I’m not asking him to like it,” Webster said. “I do not want to go to Harvard, I don’t want to continue to live on the other side of the country from the people that care about me.”

 

“Aww,” Grant said. “Do me a favor and tell Joe that.”

 

“I try,” Webster said. He couldn’t help but sound sad about this.

 

“Yeah, I know.” Grant sounded sympathetic. “You both are trying so hard to protect the other one, you haven’t stopped to realize that the other one doesn’t want to be protected.”

 

“No,” Webster said as he paused to organize his response. “We know that, we just don’t care.”

 

There was another snort of laughter on the other end of the phone and Webster could almost feel Grant shaking his head. “You two are made for each other.”

 

Webster could hear the sarcasm in that statement, but that wasn’t the way that Webster was going to take it. He was going to choose to believe that they were, even with their flaws.

 

“You’re taking that as a compliment,” Grant said, because he always seemed to know what was going on in their heads.

 

“I am,” Webster said, not even bothering to mask the pride in his voice.

 

“I don’t know that you should,” Grant said. “Because you guys are talking about this, you are planning parts of your lives together, separately.  You both have a stake in this and both of your options and concerns are valid. And ignoring the other persons’ because you don’t like the way it sounds isn’t really helping.”

 

“You sound like you’ve had this conversation before,” Webster said.

 

“Yeah, and it didn’t really phase your other half.” Grant sounded frustrated. “You can’t protect each other from everything. You just can’t. You have to pick and choose your battles.”

 

“He doesn’t want me to fight with my parents,” Webster said, understanding dawning.

 

“He’s worried one day you’ll regret it; you’ll regret that you chose him over them,” Grant said.

 

“It’s clear he’s never met them if he thinks that is the case,” Webster said.

 

“But it’s a valid concern and you can’t just brush it aside because you don’t know that you won’t,” Grant said. “It would probably help him out a lot if we tried to figure out a way to do this that doesn’t end with you burning that bridge.”

 

“What if burning that bridge is part of the appeal? What if it’s the long term goal? What if it doesn’t matter whether they pay for school or not? That isn’t going to be a bridge that exists.”

 

“That is conversation that you need to have with Joe,” Grant said. “Because he can’t imagine cutting off his family, even though right now he is pissed at his mom. You have bad parents, I know. I’ve talked to your mother, but Joe doesn’t have that knowledge.”  

 

Webster sighed. “You’re going to make me have conversations with Joe about feelings?”

 

“Someone has too.”

 

And Grant was right. In planning their adult lives, they needed to start acting like adults, as scary as that sounded.

 


	13. Thirteen

When Webster got back to his room, he wasn’t really surprised to see Hoosier lounging on Leckie’s bed. Leckie didn’t seem to be paying him much attention, his focus was all on his laptop. That wasn’t really strange either. With whatever understanding the pair had come to after their last fight, it seemed that they had also decided to spend time together that didn’t involve sex. Webster was all for whatever made Leckie happy.

 

“Hey,” Webster said by way of greeting to the pair as he set about getting his own homework out of his bag.

 

“Is it possible that you get more depressed every time I see you?” Hoosier asked, sitting up a little straighter on Leckie’s bed.

 

“I don’t know. Is it?” Webster replied as he fired up his laptop.

 

“I think it is,” Hoosier said.

 

“Be nice to him. He’s not having sex regularly,” Leckie said to Hoosier.

 

“And whose fault is that, Mr. Suddenly-Decided-to-be-Domestic-With-His-Boyfriend?” Webster snapped. “I miss the days when you just used to have sex in the back of his car.”

 

Webster felt bad the minute he said it, but what made it worse was the understanding look that the two shared. Webster would have much rather been yelled at then pitied.

 

“There has got to be a way to get you laid,” Hoosier said, shaking his head.

 

“Well, if you can figure out a way to beam Joe here, Hoosier, I’d be happy to hear it,” Webster said, returning his attention to his computer so he could start his paper.

 

“Or you to California,” Leckie mused.

 

“That’s not any easier,” Webster said, not bothering to turn around.

 

“You get really bitchy when you haven’t gotten laid,” Leckie said.

 

“Look, it’s almost spring break, the year is almost over. I’m just trying to get through this with good enough grades so that I can go to college,” Webster replied.

 

It was at that moment that Hoosier snapped his fingers which caused Webster to turn in his chair. “Campus visit.”

 

Leckie’s eyes widened and then he relaxed into that look that he got when he was plotting the overthrow of the establishment.

 

“You think my parents, no, lets rewind. You think the school is going to let me go to California on a campus visit?” Webster couldn’t believe that this was a conversation they were taking seriously.

 

“The school can’t say shit if your parents say it’s ok,” Leckie said. “We get days off for this shit.”

 

“And my parents are not going to let me within five hundred miles of California,” Webster said.

 

“Here’s what you tell ‘em,” Leckie said, leaning towards Webster as if he were about to impart wisdom. “You tell ‘em that your roommate has been telling you horrible things about Berkeley and if you went out there, maybe you’d change your mind.”

 

“You really think they’ll buy that?” Webster asked.

 

“There’s only one way to find out,” Hoosier said with a shrug of his shoulders.

 

Webster turned back around and opened an email to his parents and began to type.

 

_Dear Mother and Father,_

_The school has been encouraging students to begin considering the schools that we would wish to visit. We are given three days off from school…_

 

“Wait, we only get three days of excused absences. I can’t use all of them for Berkeley and still pull the wool over their eyes. But I don’t want to go out there for just a night.”

 

Leckie made a considering noise before getting up and walking over to the beach scene calendar that Webster had hung on the wall. He turned the page so that he was looking at April. He scanned that calendar until his eyes widened.

 

“What about Good Friday?” Leckie asked. “Or as you boyfriend calls it, Friday.”

 

Webster turned back to his computer and Googled Berkeley’s academic calendar; classes would be in session.

 

_…to explore our choices. It is in the interest of doing this that I have written to request your permission to visit the campus of California Berkeley. Since arriving at school, I have been hearing many disparaging things about Berkeley. I believe that it would be advantageous for me to confirm these things for myself._

_Consulting my academic calendar, I think the most opportune moment for this trip would be Easter weekend. I would like to depart Thursday and return on Sunday._

_-David_

 

Webster stared at the blinking cursor behind his name until he heard a click and the email was gone. Webster looked up into Leckie’s smiling face.

 

“What? You were already starting to talk yourself out of it.” Leckie said.

 

Webster bit his lip. He’d been about to contradict that statement, but he knew he couldn’t.

 

“The worst they can do to you right now is say no,” Leckie said. “Look around. They already sent you to jail. What else can they do?”

 

Webster sighed. He’d rather not figure that out. He’d called their bluff before and ended up here. He was sure they could find a way.

 

“Hoosier’s right. You need to see Joe. Your mental health is collapsing around you. It will do you good to see his face again. And since our internet is dead set against any form of video messaging, this, I believe, is the best we can do.” Leckie squeezed his shoulder.

 

“You just want the room to yourself for three days,” Webster said, giving Leckie a small shove.

 

“The thought had honestly not occurred.” Leckie put his hand over his chest pretending to be wounded.

 

“It did to me,” Hoosier said. “Not to be a dick, but it had. Not at first, but I got there pretty fast.”

 

Webster shook his head. “Such an asshole.” Then turning to Leckie, “Why do you put up with him?”

 

“You said you no longer wanted to hear about our sex life,” Leckie said, laughter dancing in his eyes.

 

Webster couldn’t help but laugh, even if in the back of his mind, all he could think about was the email that Leckie had sent, and his parent’s reaction when they received it.

 

*~*

 

When Joe had gotten out of school that afternoon, there had been a text waiting for him from Web.

 

_Call me after dinner. Lock your door._

 

Joe wasn’t used to receiving texts like that. He was used to sending them. So he’d been pretty useless for the rest of the afternoon. He’d tried doing his homework and that was a lost cause. He wasn’t sure why he’d even tried. He’d tried reading a Batman comic that Webster had sent him. That didn’t work either. Nothing did. He sat like a zombie though dinner and his mom had to say his name three times before he heard her. His whole family looked at him like he needed to have his head examined.

 

They just didn’t understand. Web was initiating phone sex. And that like never fucking happened. Sure, Web was becoming a more active participant every time Joe called, but Joe always had to get things going. But not today. No, today Web was making the first move and honestly, Joe didn’t really know what to do with himself. So after surely the longest dinner of his life, Joe practically bolted up the stairs. He called Web’s number before he even got the door all the way locked.

 

When the call connected, “What are you wearing?” was the first thing that Joe heard on the other line.

 

“A Superman t-shirt and jeans,” Joe said, walking back towards his bed before plopping down on it. “You?”

 

“Khakis and a button-up shirt, but I’m working on taking it off,” Web said. Joe heard the sound of fabric and a slight groan of frustration. “Ok…” Joe heard Web take a deep breath. “You push me down onto my bed.”

 

“Ok,” Joe said, liking where this was going because Web seemed to be giving him control of the situation.

 

“We fumble around on the bed until I’m lying on my back and you’re on top of me. You put your hands under my white t-shirt as you rock your hips down into mine.”

 

Joe moaned and popped the button on his jeans before unzipping his fly.

 

“You pull my shirt off over my head and I pull yours off too,” Web said.

 

Joe pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it in the direction of his hamper. It didn’t make it.

 

“You start in on my pants-”

 

Joe made a disappointed noise into the phone.

 

Web sighed.

 

Joe smiled. “I roll you left nipple between my fingers before I put my mouth on you.”

 

There was a gasp on the other phone and Joe palmed his dick through his pants. There was a pause on the other end of the phone and Web seemed to take it as a sign that Joe decided to give him control over the phone call again. And he had, for now.

 

“You open up my pants and slip your hand into my boxers and I roll my hips up into your palm.”

 

Joe shucked his jeans and they pooled on the floor next to his bed.

 

“You work my pants over my hips before pulling them the rest of the way off and throwing them over the side of the bed. My boxers follow after them. You start jacking me off slowly. You lean forward and start kissing and biting my neck. You reach under my pillow and find where we stashed the lube-”

 

“Jesus,” Joe swore because he now had a feeling where this was going. And was it his birthday?

 

“I spread my legs for you so you can get between them. You press a lube slicked finger against me, slowly tracing the ring muscle until it gives. You slide one of your fingers inside me, moving it, crooking it.” Web’s voice went a little breathy and shit, fuck, Joe really hoped he was doing what he was saying. Joe closed his eyes as he leaned back onto the headboard. He could picture Web spread out on his hand, doing exactly what he was describing. He shucked his boxers and started to slowly jack himself off, listening to Web.

 

“A second finger follows the first; you spread them.” And Web grunted into the phone.

 

“Shit, Web,” Joe growled back.

 

“Ah Lieb,” Web gasped. “You work in a third finger, slowly spreading, uh, working me open for your dick.”

 

“Jesus, Web,” Joe swore and he sped up his rhythm.  

 

“You remove your fingers and lean forward to kiss me before you slowly slide into my body.” There was a gasp, a whine, and a breathy moan of “Lieb” on the other phone. Joe knew what that combination meant, knew it meant that Web had reached an orgasm, his mouth dropping open as he arched his back. As that image filled Joe’s brain, he came into his hand.

 

For a few moments the phone conversation consisted only of gasps for air.

 

“Holy shit, Web. Where the fuck did that come from?” Joe asked, lying flat on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

 

There was a little laughter on the other end of the phone. “I couldn’t think of a better way to tell you that you’re going to get to do it for real.”

 

“You’re going let me take you apart and put you back together over the summer?” Joe was celebrating this small victory internally.

 

“Well, yeah, but I’m going to let you do it sooner than that,” Web said.

 

“What?” Joe replied and he knew he sounded surprised because he fucking was.

 

“Easter weekend. I’ve got a campus visit at Berkeley and I was kinda hoping to see you while I was out there. I’m sure you’ll help me figure out some uses for a hotel bed,” Web replied and Joe could hear the smile in his voice.

 

“Christ, you are too good to me,” Joe said, and he smiled practically ear to ear. “Fuck yeah, I’ll start making a list of things we can do in that hotel bed. I’ll put fucking you slowly right at the top.”

 

It was then that Joe had to admit that waiting several hours for this phone call was worth every second.


	14. Fourteen

“Son of a fucking bitch,” Webster swore at his computer.

 

“Jesus,” Leckie said, sitting up on his bed. “I don’t think I’ve heard you use more than one curse word in sentence before.”

 

Webster closed his laptop with a little force than was necessary.

 

“Come on, tell your roomie what happened,” Leckie said, trying to sound sympathetic, but he just ended up sounding like a jackass.

 

“My mother, in her infinite wisdom, has chosen this moment to take a swing at parenting.” Webster crossed his arms over his chest. “She has decided that I am too young to fly out to California by myself. Never mind that she ships me off to Georgia every summer so that she can drag father around the world. No, that’s fine, but California is a bridge too far. So she has decided she wants to go with me.”

 

“Fuck,” Leckie said, drawing out the word as if driving the point home about how fucked Webster was. As if Webster didn’t already know that.

 

“What am I going to do?” Webster said, putting his head into his hands. “How the hell am I going to call Joe back and say ‘yeah no sorry, turns out mom and I are sharing a room so that sex I promised…” Webster threw up his hands and got out of his chair to pace around the room.

 

“Well, you may have to get over this desire to have sex in a bed,” Leckie said. “There is a world of locations out there that you are overlooking.”

 

“Like museum stairways,” Webster said dryly.

 

“Don’t knock it until you've tried it,” Leckie said. “Look, you and Joe seem like two of the most resourceful people I know. Surely you can figure this out.”

 

Webster paused in his pacing. “But we aren’t the most resourceful people I know.” Webster walked over to his desk and picked up his phone. If anyone could figure out a way to get Webster back his empty hotel room, it was Charles Grant. Webster dialed Grant’s number and waited while it rang.

 

“Hey Web. What’s up?” Grant said when he answered the phone.

 

“I need your help,” Webster said in a rush.

 

“Christ, what did you do?” Grant sounded exasperated and Webster was mostly used to hearing that tone when Grant was talking to Joe.

 

“Nothing horrible,” Webster said, and he knew he sounded a little defensive.

 

“Well that’s good,” Grant said and Webster didn’t feel that the sarcasm was necessary. “So what’s up?”

 

“Well, I got my parents to let me go to Berkeley for a campus visit,” Webster said.

 

“Aww, you lucky boy. I bet you plan to see the sights in San Francisco while you’re out there,” Grant said.

 

“Well I did,” Webster said. “And then my mother decided she wanted to come along.”

 

“Oh fuck,” Grant said. “Why of all the times to start parenting does she choose now?”

 

“This is the question that I have been asking myself since I got the email,” Webster said. “So do you have any suggestions on how to get my private hotel room back?”

 

There was silence on the other end and Webster waited while the mastermind worked this out.

 

“Hey, Web? Let me call you back,” Grant said.

 

“Ok,” Webster said as he hung up.

 

“What just happened on the other end of that phone?” Leckie asked.

 

“Hopefully magic,” Webster said, looking at the phone.

 

“Who was that?” Leckie looked terribly confused.

 

“My cabin leader,” Webster replied.

 

“You call your cabin leader when you have trouble getting laid?” Leckie now just sounded mystified.

 

“I call Grant when I have trouble with anything,” Webster shrugged.

 

“This has worked before?” Leckie seemed strangely interested in Grant.

 

“Do my parents seem like the type of parents that would send me to a summer camp that didn’t have an academic purpose?  You know, one where I might have fun?” Webster said sitting down at his desk and opening his laptop.

 

“So now what are you going to do? Just sit here and wait?” Leckie asked.

 

“Unless you’ve got any better ideas,” Webster said, opening his trig book.

 

Leckie sighed and flopped back down onto his bed. Webster tried to do just that. He tried to sit there and work through his math homework. He just couldn’t. Every time he tried to work through a problem, he would see his phone and he would lose his focus. He really hoped that Grant was going to be able to figure out a way to fix this. He knew now he probably should have waited to tell Joe. Waited until he landed in San Francisco and just sprung it on him. He should have known that because it was them, it wouldn’t be as easy as he thought it would be. He was pretty sure he might be going absolutely crazy when Grant’s name came up on his phone.

 

“Did you fix it?” Webster said by way greeting.

 

“Maybe,” Grant said, sounding critically unsure of himself. “I planted the seed, it’s all up to whether or not your Mom can talk your dad out of what I talked him into. The good news is that I got him to pay for summer camp.”

 

Webster tried to smile, but he failed. Summer camp wasn’t nothing, but right this second, it wasn’t what he wanted.

 

“Hey cheer up, kid. Joe will figure this out,” Grant said. “You are in the Bay area, Joe’s going to find a way to see you even if it’s just for a little bit.”

 

Webster smiled this time. “Yeah, Joe would be pissed if he found out that I was doubting his devious nature.”

 

Grant laughed. “Besides, if this doesn’t work out, we’ll try it again and tell your parents you want to go to Stanford. We’ll put a little more planning into it and try again next year.”

 

Webster sighed. “Yeah, we did kinda do this by the seat of our pants.”

 

“Don’t worry so much, kid. It’ll be ok. Summer camp will be here before you know it.”

 

“Yeah,” Webster said, feeling a little sick. “I guess I’d better call Joe and tell him. Just so I don’t drop on him all of sudden. I built this up a bit.”

 

“He’ll get over it. It’ll take a while, but he’ll get over it. He’ll blame your parents and try to make it up to you over the summer.”

 

“Yeah,” Webster said. He believed Grant. He did, but it didn’t make him feel any better about letting Joe down.

 

*~*

 

“What’s up, Joe?” Grant said when he answered the phone.

 

“It’s my understanding that I owe you big time,” Joe said.

 

There was laughter on the other end of the phone. “So it all worked out then? Web’s parents saw reason?”

 

“Yeah, it took a couple days, but whatever you said to them worked,” Joe replied. “We are back in our own hotel room.”

 

“Happy to help,” Grant replied. “I was a little surprised that you had gotten this far on your own. I’ll blame myself when you two turn out to be deviants with no respect for authority.”

 

“I convinced my parents to let me stay the weekend out there. I might have lied about the level adult supervision,” Joe said with a shrug.

 

“And the sex,” Grant said.

 

“Well yeah, that goes without saying,” Joe said. “I can’t imagine talking to my mother about that ever.”

 

“Consider yourself lucky. It’s the first thing that my mom wanted to know when I got home for Christmas,” Grant said.

 

“I’m a little worried my mom wants to have him over for dinner Saturday,” Joe said.

 

Grant winced. “Nothing like Shabbat dinner with the folks.”

 

“Yeah,” Joe said. “It’s not like we are super traditional about it, but it’s still dinner with my parents and five siblings.”

 

“Let’s all take a moment to feel sorry for Web,” Grant said.

 

“I don’t even know why mom invited him,” Joe said, shaking his head. “She’s still weird as fuck about it. She hasn’t come around like you all keep saying she will. So now I’ve invited Web to the most awkward dinner he is ever going to have in his life. That may end up with him being raked over hot coals.”

 

“Don’t worry so much,” Grant replied. “If there is one person who is going to be good at the meet the parents dinner, it’s Web. He’s smart, he’s polite, I think he’ll be fine.”

 

“Are you implying I’m not?” Joe asked.

 

“I’m saying if you run into Web’s mom, resist the urge to treat her like the bitch you think she is. You’ve got a number of skills, Joe. Masking disdain isn’t one of them,” Grant said softly, like he knew Joe might fly off the handle.

 

Joe sighed. He wasn’t going to argue the point. “So how do you suggest I handle it?”

 

“Well, fortunately for you, I’ve done most of the work. Just tell her you’re Web’s friend from camp. I’ve built camp up so high for her that she believes it. So just tell her you’re Web’s friend from camp and she’ll treat you like you deserve to be treated.”

 

“I’m just kinda worried that I’m going to pick that moment to be me and fuck everything up.” Joe said.

 

“I hate to break it to you, but she’s already made up her mind about most things. I doubt that you could have an emotional impact on her. Mostly because I don’t think she has any. Not that his dad is leaps and bounds better, I don’t even know why I bothered wasting disappointment on him.” Grant sighed.

 

“So it’s just always going to be crap with them,” Joe said.

 

“Probably,” Grant said. “Some people just aren’t cut out to be parents.”

 

Joe didn’t know what to say to that. As much as Joe might have trouble with his parents, he still thought they loved him. Some days he wasn’t sure that Webster’s parents did. He always wanted to believe that they do, but sometimes he wasn’t so sure.

 

“If it makes you feel better,” Grant said. “I’m not sure that they are going to be in his life too much longer. Web’s building his own family. I don’t see them being a part of it after he graduates from college.”

 

“And that doesn’t sound horrible to you?” Joe asked.

 

“Ask yourself, don’t you think he’s better off with us? I mean, we have our own brand of crazy, but at least we care about him.”   

 

Joe nodded on the other on the end of the phone, but it still didn’t make him feel better. “I’m worried about him. I’m worried he’s under too much pressure, to get good grades, to get into the good school and I feel like some of that pressure is coming from me. I mean, the good grades and getting into Berkeley, he wants those things because of me.”

 

“He can’t get into Harvard with bad grades,” Grant said. “More importantly you can’t blame yourself for all the shit that Web puts on himself. Part of Web’s problem is that he doesn’t know how to manage his stress. That’s not your fault. It’s something that we all can make an effort to help him with, but it’s not our responsibility that this is one skill that Web just doesn’t have. There are things that you two need to work on together and there are things that you need to work on your own. I’m not saying you can’t be helpful, but this something Web does have to work on.”

 

“I don’t think he is,” Joe said, knowing that he probably could have said ‘I know he isn’t’ and that would have been a more truthful statement.

 

“I don’t think he is either, so all we can do now is convince him to try. And if that doesn’t work then we have to figure out how to say ‘I told you so’ in a way that sounds supportive.” Grant replied.

 

“That’s a hell of a plan you’ve got there,” Joe said, and he couldn’t help it if he sounded bitter about it.

 

“I know it sucks, but there are some lessons that you need to learn on you own.”

 

Joe was a little surprised sometimes by how much wisdom Grant seemed to have. Like he’d lived a lifetime already, when he was only a few years older than Joe.  He didn’t know if he would ever have that kind of wisdom, or someone to give it to. But he hoped that one day he would, that he’d be able to hand Grant’s knowledge down to someone else. It was just simply too good to keep it to himself.

 

*~*

 

Joe bounced his foot nervously off the floor of the bus. He'd been looking forward to the possibility of this day since Web had mentioned it over the phone after some fairly spectacular phone sex. And if this bus made one more fucking unscheduled stop, he was going to lose his mind. It had been nearly two months of crazy working up to this. Full of agony of wondering if it was ever going to happen and finally it was here. Web was in town on his campus visit. It had fucking sucked because it had seemed like there was always something out to fuck them over.

 

First it had been:

 

_Counselor says no west coast visits._

 

Web had appealed and then they were back in business until:

 

_'Rents won't sign permission form._

 

Joe had wanted to say just forge it, but that had gotten them into trouble last time. Finally Web had tricked his mom into believing that maybe if he saw the campus, he'd change his mind on the school. Ha, like Joe was going to let that fucking happen. Then:

 

_Mom wants to come with._

 

Joe had wanted to scream because after all this, how was he supposed to get laid if Web's mom came along? Then a few days before Web came out, he got this in the middle of the school day:

 

_Dad says I'm old enough for my own room. Whatever Grant did worked._

 

Joe had been unable to focus on anything else for the rest of the day. All he could think about was three nights of having Web all to himself. Joe's parents had been pretty easy to win over. He just told them a friend from camp was coming into town to look at Berkeley. "Yes, that friend, oh my god, mom!" It had taken a little convincing to get them to let him stay in Berkeley with Web for three nights. Ok, it had taken lying. He'd told them Web's mom was going to be there like really the whole time. He's found out when he'd gotten on the bus that wouldn't be true:

 

_Room 419, mom's two floors down._

 

Joe sighed in relief; finally things were starting to go their way. Or they would be if people would stop getting on this damn bus. As the bus finally turned onto the right street, Joe got up and shouldered his backpack. He'd packed three days of clothes and everything he'd need to stay the night. If Web's mom insisted on parenting, Joe had the addresses of comic book stores to keep him busy. Joe hoped she'd give up midway through the weekend because he'd been putting money aside to take Web out on a date. Dinner, maybe a movie. A real date. Not their usual sneaking out of their cabin to find a place to get off. No, something real.

 

When the bus came to a complete stop, Joe practically flew out of it. He ran down the street from the stop to the hotel, only slowing down once he hit the lobby to locate the elevators. He managed to squeeze in with a family of four and their suitcases. He tapped his foot against the floor as they rode up and of course they had to stop on the third floor.

 

Joe had almost said fuck it as the family maneuvered its way out and taken the stairs, but he wanted to save his energy for something else. It seemed to take forever for the elevator to climb that last floor and when the doors opened, he sprang out. He made a hard left, following the directional signs, and almost ran past 419. He knocked on the door a bit more forcefully than necessary, but then Web opened it pretty fast. So Joe wasn’t the only one that had been thinking about this all day.

 

They barely made it through the door before Web started kissing him. Joe pressed him against the wall behind the door.

 

“Lieb,” Web gasped between kisses. “Missed you.”

 

It always made Joe crazy when Web called him ‘Lieb’. Web knew what it meant; he knew he wasn’t just shortening Joe’s last night name. He knew what it meant, he meant it, and it made Joe crazy.

 

“Missed you too,” Joe hissed, pulling on Web’s t-shirt, trying to get it off over his head. Joe wanted to find bare skin. He wanted to feel. He wanted to touch. He wanted to be felt and be touched. These were the things that there was no way you could have across distance. Web finally got with the program and pulled back enough so that Joe could get Web’s shirt over his head. Web mirrored Joe’s action by pulling Joe’s shirt off.

 

“Wanna try…” Web said, his fingers tracing over the lines of Joe’s shoulders. He seemed to get lost in that motion, the slide of his fingers moving along Joe’s skin.

 

“What?” Joe asked, his fingers tracing along Web’s jawline.

 

Web took a deep breath and bit his bottom lip. He looked down and watched his fingers unbuckle Joe’s belt and open the fly of his jeans. Joe was all on board with anything that got him out of his pants, but he wasn’t prepared for Web to follow his pants to the floor. He had a pretty good idea of where this was going.

 

“Holy sweet Jesus,” Joe said.

 

Webster smiled. It was small and nervous, but it was a smile. Web pulled his boxers down and got this determined look on his face. Joe was pretty sure he’d never been harder in his life as he watched Web lick his lips. Web started out by licking Joe’s cock from base to tip. Joe swore and his eyes rolled back into his head. Web took the head of Joe’s cock between his lips and Joe’s hands slid uselessly against the wall, trying to find something to hold on to.

 

Web took one of Joe’s hands and guided it into his hair. Joe’s fingers slid against Web’s scalp, not pulling, but combing through his hair.  Web tipped his head into Joe’s palm.

 

“Jesus.” Joe’s head rocked back with a thump against the wall.

 

It was easy to get lost in this. The the slide of Web’s tongue, the suction of his lips, and the warm, wet heat of Web’s mouth.

 

“Shit, Web. Christ,” Joe moaned. And he received a moan in return when Joe pulled on Web’s hair ever so slightly. It probably should have been embarrassing, how quickly it was over. It was just too much, all too new, and overwhelming in the fact that finally he had Web here. It was when their eyes met that caused him to come inside Web’s mouth. Web didn’t end up being completely successful in swallowing. He ended up wiping Joe’s come off his chin and…

 

“Holy crap,” Joe said as he slid down the wall to the floor where Web was still kneeling. Web was blushing and it was so fucking hot. “What are they teaching you at that school of yours?”

 

Web smiled and his cheeks remained red. “Leckie got drunk and explained the basics. He said it was a skill you’d want me to have.”

 

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Joe said, leaning against the wall, chest still heaving. Joe leaned forward, softly tracing Web’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. He leaned in close and just as gently kissed Web’s swollen mouth. Pulling back, he licked his lips before he spoke. “Want to crawl up on the bed so I don’t give you a rug burn on your ass?”

 

“So thoughtful my boyfriend,” Web teased.

 

Joe laughed as he shucked his jeans and boxers that were pooled at his feet. He dug around in his backpack for the lube he’d brought. When he turned around, Web was sitting on the bed, with a nervous look on his face. Joe smiled at him and hoped that it was reassuring and not predatory. He crawled up the bed until he was leaning over Web.

 

“I want to feel you come on my fingers,” Joe said. One, because it was true and two, because he was trying to get that nervous look out of Web’s eyes.

 

“We’re not going to...” Web gestured back and forth between the two of them.

 

“Do you really want to spend tomorrow physically reminded that we fucked every time you move?”  Joe asked.

 

The blush was back in full force on Web’s face.

 

“So why don’t we save that for some time when you won’t be meeting a future professor?” Joe said.

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Web replied.

 

Joe smiled at him again and now he knew it was all ‘grandma what big teeth you have.’ He couldn’t have helped it if he tried. Because Joe knew as he pulled off Web’s pants and boxers that he was going to be the first person to do this to Web. He couldn’t help that that made him feel smug. Web’s clothes were cast carelessly aside and Joe slicked up his fingers with lube. As his fingers teased Web’s opening, he watched Web’s fingers tightening in the sheets.

 

“Been looking forward to this,” Joe said as he pushed in the first finger. “Been wondering what you looked like on the other end phone. Spread out on your bed-”

 

Web moaned and rocked down into Joe’s hand. Joe took this as a request for a second finger. He worked it in slowly, giving Web time to adjust.

 

“Ah, Lieb,” Web hissed.

 

Joe grinned and leaned forward to lick one Web’s nipples. He felt Web try to bat him away, but rather than be deterred, Joe just took the bud into his mouth.

 

“Shit, ah, fuck,” Web swore, his fingers tangling in Joe’s hair.

 

Joe spread his fingers apart and as he brought them back together, he knew he found Web’s prostate. He knew it because Web pulled his hair hard enough to hurt. Joe moved up as he continued to work Web over.

 

“That’s it, Web. Come on, let me see you come,” Joe said.

 

As if the request were an order, Web arched his hips off the bed and came all over their chests.

 

“Ahh fuck.” Web was still breathing like he’d run a race. “I didn’t think it would be that different, when you did it.”

 

“Just shows you don’t know everything,” Joe said, wiping his fingers off on a corner of the bedspread.

 

“Yeah, but I’m willing to learn it with you,” Web replied.

 

Joe leaned forward and pulled Web into a kiss, so grateful to have this boy back in his space.   

 


	15. Fifteen

It had been something almost surreal to wake up naked, still tangled up with Joe. It was strange in a preview-of-coming-attractions kind of way. They’d gotten up and started preparing for their day. Webster had his campus visit and Joe had plans to explore all the local comic book stores. Joe also seemed strangely fascinated by Webster’s school uniform. Like most of the things that Joe fixated on, Webster didn’t understand it. He just batted Joe’s pawing hands away and met his mother for breakfast in the lobby.  This was the part of the trip that Webster had been looking forward to the least.

 

At this point, it didn’t matter what the campus of Berkeley looked like. Webster was going to find a way to attend this university even if it killed him. And his mother was only going to see the flaws. It was one of the most uncomfortable hours of Webster’s life. The girl, Stacey, that was showing them around, was a short blond bubbly girl. She seemed to be trying to make up for the lack of excitement that Webster’s mother clearly had. It was nice not to have to do that all on his own. She knew how to sell the campus and made sure to take Webster by the Language Arts building. As they walked back to the orientation building, Webster sent a text to Joe that they were almost done. And he received a response that Joe was a couple of blocks away.  

 

When Stacey asked if he wanted to sit in on a class, Webster knew that he was too excited for his own good. His mother just sniffed and said they didn’t have time for that. Webster tried to smile politely to make up for her rudeness.

 

Stacey was not to be deterred. She pressed that if Webster’s mother needed to go, she’d be happy to take Webster herself. If Webster’s mother had had any interest in parenting, she probably would have objected to leaving her child on a strange campus with a stranger. As it was, Webster’s mother gave him some money for a cab and took her own back to the hotel. While Stacey went inside to find a class in session, Webster waited out on a park bench outside the building. While he was sitting there, Joe walked towards him, backpack on his shoulder.

 

“Well? Was it everything you hoped it would be?” Joe asked, sitting down next to him.

 

“Yeah, it was.” Webster smiled and he meant it.  

 

“That’s good,” Joe said, squeezing the inside of Webster’s thigh.

 

“The girl that showed us around said I might be able to sit in on a class,” Webster said.

 

“That’s cool,” Joe said and Webster could see in his eyes that he meant it.

 

Stacey came walking down the steps smiling. “How you feel about sitting in on a crime literature class?”

 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Webster said.

 

“Who’s your friend?” Stacey asked.

 

“This is my boyfriend, Joe,” Webster said, tilting his head towards Joe.

 

“You want to tag along?” she asked.

 

“That’s ok,” Joe said, trying to wave her off.

 

“Come on, they are talking about Sherlock Holmes,” she said, and Joe sensing he couldn’t win this, went along with her.

 

As they filed into the back of the classroom, a small room with only four rows of chairs, Webster got this giddy feeling. Even though he probably wouldn’t have selected crime lit on his own, this was still a college literature course. And Webster was having trouble not bouncing up and down in his chair. When the professor walked in, he was a walking cliché. He was slightly heavy set, with thinning hair, and despite the fact that this was spring in California, he was wearing a tweed coat with elbow patches. The class was clearly finishing up The Study in Scarlet because the professor was detailing the impact of the character Sherlock Holmes. Of course, when the professor asked for characters based on Holmes, most people were able to list nearly every TV detective in the history of mankind. Which was partly why Webster avoided crime shows in general. When someone mentioned Batman, Joe made a disappointed noise. Webster couldn’t help but smile.

 

Since it was such a small classroom, the noise could be heard and the professor turned to Joe. “Do you have something you’d like to add?” He was smiling as if he was intrigued by their existence.

 

Joe seemed to weigh his answer before deciding, fuck it. “You can’t just look at someone and say they solve crime so they must be like Holmes. Sure Kane and Finger drop Holmes into their list of influences for Batman, but it’s a really long list. A list that includes sketches by Da Vinci, Dick Tracy and Zorro. Tracy, by the way, who is also a detective. Is he based on Sherlock?” Joe paused to see if anyone would argue with him.

 

“So they dump all these guys into a blender and then pulse it a couple of times and pour out Batman. But other than the job description, what do they have in common? Well, Batman is strictly no guns and Sherlock doesn’t seem to have this same concern. Batman always brings his villains in for justice, even when it is actually in his best interest not to. The Joker is still alive, while it is a countdown to when we kill Moriarty. And if anyone is laboring under the delusion that Robin is somehow Watson needs to read the Nightwing origin story. The whole reason Grayson left is because he wasn’t feeling valued. Not to mention that Batman fights crime because it is a moral imperative when for Sherlock, it’s a game. There’s a difference between fighting crimes because it’s right versus doing it for the vine. So it’s pretty clear that Kane and Finger didn’t really read Sherlock before they based their character on him. I’ve always figured they just said it to sound smart. Batman comes along in 1939 when comic books are a medium searching for legitimacy. Why not throw your lot in with Sherlock?”

 

As Webster sat there watching Joe defend his hero, he had to admit he’d never found Joe more attractive.  And it was at this moment he had to admit that he really was ridiculously in love with this boy if comic book rants were attractive.

 

*~*

 

“You are ridiculously attractive right now,” Web said from where Joe had pushed him into the center of their unmade bed.

 

Joe was feeling a little smug. “Defenses of Batman get you hard, huh?”

 

“Shut up,” Web said, reaching up to undo his tie before Joe batted his hand away.

 

Web rolled his eyes. “It’s just my uniform. Every guy at my school wears one.”

 

Joe just shrugged, crawling onto the bed to straddle Web’s hips.

 

“I do not understand the obsession,” Web said.

 

“I’m not asking you too,” Joe said as he slipped the fabric of Web’s tie through his fingers. He smiled before leaning in to whisper the next part in Web’s ear. “I’m just asking you to let me enjoy it.”

 

There was a small shiver that ran through Web’s body. Joe grinned and leaned back to resume the task of removing Web’s tie. He knew that the burgundy fabric was probably going to feature pretty heavily in a couple of Joe’s fantasies. But they’d probably freak Web out. And the headboard didn’t have slots. He discarded the tie over the side of the bed as he started popping the buttons of Web’s shirt. He sucked on Web’s collarbone before he pressed his teeth in the slope of Web’s shoulder. He was going slowly and he knew that Web was going to start getting impatient, but Joe was refusing to speed up. He had to make this good. If he was ever going to get a chance to do it again, he had to get it right this time. That meant getting Web to relax, to get him out of his own head long enough so that he lost himself in the feel of this.

 

Joe picked up Web’s right wrist and unbuttoned the cuff before nipping at the skin of Web’s wrist. Joe repeated the action on the left wrist. The whole time Web’s eyes tracked Joe’s movements before he leaned up and wrapped his hand around Joe’s head, drawing him forward into a kiss. Joe used the opportunity to get Web’s shirt off and send it over the side of the bed.

 

Joe pushed Web back onto the bed. Web went without a struggle and he stayed put once Joe had him where he wanted him. He watched as Joe unbuckled Web’s belt and yanked it through the belt loops. The belt made a snapping noise as Joe pulled it and that caused Web’s eyes to widen.  Joe filed that reaction away for later. He popped the buttons of Web’s pants and lifted himself up so he get them off. Web did the rest of the work, kicking his pants off onto the floor.

 

Joe leaned down and kissed Web. He traced Web’s lips with his tongue and once he had Web’s attention, he reached blindly over onto the nightstand for the lube.  

 

“I can tell when you are trying to do two things at once,” Web said, pulling back and rubbing his nose against Joe’s.

 

Joe smiled and leaned over, retrieving the lube from the nightstand.

 

Web’s fingers traced along Joe’s rib cage. “Could always tell at summer camp when you started trying to take off my pants.”

 

Joe ducked his head, still smiling, but he could feel a blush on his cheeks.

 

“It’s not a bad thing, you just aren’t as sneaky as you think you are,” Web said.

 

“So are you ready for this then?” Joe said, turning the lube in his hand to illustrate his point.

 

“Yeah,” Web nodded. “This part I’m pretty experienced with. What happens next might require some hand holding.”

 

“God, you are such a girl,” Joe said. “You’re going to make me hold your hand?”

 

“Figuratively, dumbass,” Web said, swatting at Joe’s hip.

 

Joe smiled before he started taking off Web’s boxers very slowly.

 

“Could you go any fucking slower?” Web asked.

 

Joe tossed Web’s boxers over his shoulder. “And here I thought you would be all cute and nervous.”

 

“Maybe like a month ago, but I’ve been thinking about this since we made plans for me to come out here.” Web worried his lip with his teeth.

 

“Shit,” Joe swore as his lubed up his fingers. “Tell me.”

 

“Joe,” Web whined as Joe started to tease the muscles of his opening.

 

“Oh come on, I’m doing like all the work here,” Joe smiled before he leaned forward and started sucking a hickey on Web’s hipbone. He also pressed a finger into Web.

 

“Not fair,” Web hissed.

 

Joe dragged his teeth along the line of Web’s hipbone as he worked a second finger in. Web was making these sharp breathy noises and Joe spread his fingers to stretch him open.

 

“Ah,” Web gasped as his hands fisted in the sheets.

 

Joe slicked up a third finger and slid it in next to his other fingers. Web rolled his hips down to meet Joe’s hand.

 

“Fuck. Please,” Web moaned.

 

Joe pulled out and wiped his fingers on the corner of the bedsheet. Getting off his pants was a little difficult with his hands shaking and Web looking at him like he was considering pouncing. Finally he managed it, pulling both his pants and boxers off in one go and tossing them over the side of the bed. Joe slicked up his dick.

 

Joe exhaled. “I’ll go slow.”

 

Web nodded.

 

Joe took another deep breath before he slowly started sliding into Web. Web’s breathing was coming quickly and he was biting his lip. With Web’s fingers clenching white knuckled in the sheets, it was impossible to hold Web’s hand so Joe settled for gripping Web’s wrist gently in his hand.  

 

“Ok,” Web gasped.

 

Now it was Joe’s turn to bite his lip before pulling out and thrusting back in. When the action didn’t quite produce the reaction he’d hoped for, he angled his hips slightly for a second try. This time he hit the spot that he was looking for as Web arched off the bed.  

 

“Fuck, Lieb,” Web moaned.

 

After that they found a rhythm. Web’s fingers finally relaxed in the sheets and ended up sliding along Joe’s rib cage. Joe’s fingers gripped Web’s hips hard enough that he knew there would be bruises the next morning. Joe rested his head against Web’s, their breath mixed, and they got lost in each other. Web moaned ‘Lieb’ as he came and Joe followed with a ‘Web’ muffled into Web’s shoulder.

 

“Shit,” Web swore while Joe ran his fingers though Web’s hair.

 

“You want to do it again?” Joe asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

 

“Give me a minute,” Web said, sounding delightfully breathless.

  
Joe laughed into the crook of Web’s shoulder.  Yeah, they were definitely going to do it again.  


	16. Sixteen

“Wake up.” Joe’s voice was firm and a little exasperated. But he hadn’t woken Webster up, Webster had already been awake. He’d been awake since Joe had gotten up to take a shower. Joe had demanded that Webster wake up too, stating that they had things to do. Webster had ignored him and rolled over, which explained the exasperation.  And why Joe was poking him in the shoulder blade.

 

Webster groaned and tried to shift away from Joe’s insistently poking fingers. He didn’t know why he tried because he knew Joe was just going follow.

 

“Web, come on. Daylight is burning.” Joe’s fingers were still poking the ball of his shoulder.

 

“Why are we getting out of bed?” Webster groaned. “We don’t have to go to your parents until six. I’m nearly positive that if I stay in bed for a few more hours, we will still make it. Considering it’s not even,” Webster pulled the blanket back far enough that he could see the clock on the nightstand. “Christ, Joe. It’s not even 10 o’clock.”

 

“We have to catch a bus,” Joe said. “Actually, a series of buses.”

 

“A series of buses that is going to take all day?” Webster said. Webster knew the answer to that. He’d already researched the route he’d take from school to Joe’s house. Webster rolled onto his back so he could look at Joe. Who was dressed and Webster couldn’t pretend he wasn’t a little disappointed. But the red Avengers shirt looked good on him, even if Webster did want to take it off and add it to the growing pile of dirty laundry on the floor.

 

“Get up, take a shower, and get dressed. We are going on a date,” Joe said, throwing a t-shirt at Webster’s face.

 

“We are going on a date?” Webster asked, removing his shirt from his face and sitting up. When Joe had first brought the idea up over the phone, Webster had assumed he was joking.

 

“We are going on a date,” Joe said, grinning broadly.

 

“Where did these new found romantic impulses come from?” Webster said, tilting his head slightly.

 

“Shut up and put your pants on,” Joe said.

 

“That is something that I never thought I’d hear you say,” Webster said.

 

“Pants now,” Joe said, giving Webster a playful shove.

 

“Where are we going?” Webster asked, somewhat intrigued.

 

“Out,” Joe said, schooling his features.

 

“Where?”

 

“San Francisco,” Joe said.

 

“You’re not going to tell me?” Webster asked.

 

Joe shook his head. “Nope, get up and wear whatever you are wearing to my folks’ because we won’t have time to come back.”

 

Webster groaned, but he got out of bed. He’d been more than a little surprised that the only two things Joe had placed on their itinerary that weren’t related to sex were dinner with his parents and a date. One, because last he heard, Joe’s mother couldn’t even manage to say his name. And two, how the hell long had Joe been harboring the desire to take him out on a date? When Webster started dating Joe, he knew that their relationship wasn’t going to be normal. They weren’t going to be able to do the things normal couples do. He’d tried not to dwell on it because there was nothing either of them could do about it.

 

And he wondered later as he was sitting on the bus. Well, he was sitting; Joe was standing in front of him, holding on to the metal bar.  Joe’s left arm was gripping the bar above his head, his other was loosely tucked in the pocket of his jeans. Webster wondered if Joe knew that he’d made peace with the fact that they were going to have to put dating on hold. Sure, it wouldn’t be forever. Webster would start at Berkeley or that Nebraska community college and Webster would go see whatever movie Marvel was pedaling that year. Then after he’d drag Joe to trendy restaurants and listen to Joe bitch about how they weren’t staying true to the spirit of the comics.

 

“You know I don’t mind, right?” Webster nudged Joe’s foot with his own to get Joe’s attention.

 

Joe gave him a perplexed look, which was fair since Webster hadn’t really said a complete sentence.

 

“The not going on dates,” Webster said.

 

“What if I mind?” Joe asked, straightening his arm so he was closer to Webster.

 

“You mind that we aren’t going out on dates?” Webster crossed his arms over his chest. “Ok, who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

 

“Haha. Look, I just want to do the couple thing,” Joe said with a shrug.

 

“Did you fall down the stairs? Are you running a low grade fever?” Webster reached out his hand to feel Joe’s forehead.  

 

“No.” Joe leaned away from Webster’s hand. “Look, I just want to give you the whole preview of what’s coming thing.”

 

And suddenly Webster got it. “If I go to Berkeley, we could go on dates.”

 

Joe shrugged again.

 

“You know I’m going to Berkeley, right? You don’t have to sell me on this, right? I’m not considering other schools, weighing my options, or whatever the hell else people say. There is no list of safety schools. So whatever the hell it is that is going on in your head, cut it out. It’s Berkeley or bust at this point.”

 

Joe’s smile was faint as he leaned forward and tapped Web’s leg. “This is our stop.”

 

“You never did tell me where you are taking me,” Webster said as he followed Joe off the bus.

 

“Books and sharks,” Joe said as he pointed to a sign that indicated that the San Francisco aquarium was around the corner. “The sum total of your life in New York. You saw Berkeley’s library yesterday so…” Joe trailed off.

 

“You thought you’d show me the sharks,” Webster finished.

 

“Preview of coming attractions,” Joe said.

 

Webster grabbed Joe and pulled him into a kiss, because kissing Joe in the middle of the sidewalk was also an attraction that Webster was very much looking forward to.

 

*~*

 

If he was being honest, Joe would have to admit that he planned on getting to his parents’ right before they were going to sit down for dinner. It was deliberate because he wanted to limit the time for small talk. Or limit the time that Web was going to spend being roasted over hot coals. But that wasn’t what he told his dad.

 

“There you boys are. We were starting to worry about you,” his dad said, walking into the entryway.

 

“Buses,” Joe said with a shrug, like that explained everything. And at the same time, ignoring the fact that he purposely missed one that would have gotten them here thirty minutes earlier.  

 

“You must be David.” His dad walked towards Web and held out his hand.

 

“Yes, thank you for having me for dinner, sir.” Web shook Joe’s dad’s hand. It almost sounded like Web was laying it on a little thick, but that was just how Web was. Grant was right. If there was someone that was going to be good at parents, it was Web.

 

The introduction to his siblings went about as well as Joe could’ve hoped. His younger brother Daniel barely looked up from his video game. But Joe knew he wouldn’t have been any more invested in a stranger when he was in fourth grade. His youngest sister Leah was her normally sweet self. What difference a year made between his two younger siblings. They found his sister Rachel sitting at the dining room table.  She had her homework spread out around her. Joe smiled. If any of his siblings were really going to hit it off with Web, it was Rachel. Mostly because no eighth grader should be that concerned about the college admissions process. They’d have to wait until dinner for her to figure it out though because she mumbled a greeting and didn’t even look up from her homework.

 

The two that Joe was worried about the most could be heard moving around in the kitchen. Joe knew his dad must have sensed the danger because he followed them into the dining room.

 

“Clare, the boys are here,” his dad said, still sounding very friendly and inviting even though Joe was pretty sure that wasn’t what was waiting in the kitchen. Joe’s mother rounded the corner into the room, wiping her hands on a dish rag.

 

“Hello David. It’s so nice to finally meet you, we’ve heard a lot about you.” Which was a lie because after she first heard about Web, Joe’s mom hadn’t heard anything else about Web. But Joe decided that if she was going to play nice, Joe could follow that lead.

 

“It’s very nice of you to have me,” Web said, nodding in her direction.

 

At that moment, Hannah walked into the room wearing oven mitts and carrying a casserole dish.

 

“This is my sister Hannah,” Joe said, gesturing in her direction.

 

Web hated Hannah, mostly because Joe hadn’t pulled any punches when recounting their ongoing feud. Web had even called her a bitch at one point after she called Joe stupid over a family dinner. But you would never know it to look at him. Web didn’t stiffen, narrow his eyes, or betray any emotion when he said “Hello Hannah.” Web was all sweetness and light just like he had been when Joe’s mother entered the room.

 

Hannah’s reaction, however, was not as diplomatic. She stiffened noticeably and sat down the lasagna with a little more force than necessary.  She did manage a curt hello, but Joe thought that was probably because everyone in the room was looking at her.

 

After that they sat down to dinner and for a Liebgott family dinner, it was shockingly quiet. Joe almost wondered if someone had died and they were trying figure out how to break it to him. The last thing he expected was for his mother to be the one to break it.

 

“Did you enjoy your visit to Berkeley, David?” Joe’s mom looked up at Web while she dished up her lasagna.

 

“Yes ma'am, it’s a very beautiful campus and it has a great program for the major that I’m interested in.” Web smiled, like he and Joe’s mom often had heart to hearts about Web’s future goals and ambitions.

 

“Nicer weather than Harvard too, I imagine,” she added smiling.

 

Web gave a snort of laughter. “Yeah, that almost goes without saying. One of the many things Berkeley has going for it.”

 

Web didn’t look over at Joe; he looked right across the table at Joe’s mom. But Joe knew that he was one of the things Berkeley had going for it. To hear Web tell it, it was the most important thing Berkeley had going for it. So Web didn’t need to look at Joe for Joe to get his meaning. And Joe didn’t need to look at Web to guess what Web’s face looked like when he said it. Mostly because he could see the look on his mom’s face. Joe knew that Web meant him and judging by the look on Joe’s mother’s face she knew it too. She knew that Web meant Joe. She knew now, had seen it first hand. Web was going to move across the country for her son. That fact being brought to her attention had an impact on her, Joe could tell. Maybe they hadn’t won anything, maybe she still hadn’t come around, but in that moment something had changed. As she sat there at her dining room table, spatula hovering over a casserole dish, Joe  could see that her assessment of the situation had changed.

 

“Well,” she said as she dished up her portion. “I hope that everything works out for you.”

 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Web said as he put his napkin in his lap.

 

Joe let out a breath that he’d been holding since his mom first spoke. He also felt a knot loosen in his stomach and for the first time, Joe dared to hope.

 

*~*

 

This time when they got on the bus to head back to the hotel, Joe sat next to Webster. Their knees touched and as they rode, Joe reached over and took Webster’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. Webster returned the gesture and was surprised when Joe didn’t let go of his hand. They rode like that the whole way back to the hotel, Joe’s hand holding onto Webster’s. Joe didn’t say anything, but Webster wasn’t really surprised. Both of them had been walking on eggshells for most of the evening, trying to preserve Joe’s mother’s good mood and avoid whatever had been crawling up Hannah’s ass.

 

When they got to the hotel, Joe let go of his hand before patting Webster’s knee and getting up. Webster followed him out of the bus and into the hotel in silence. It wasn’t until they got to the elevator, standing shoulder to shoulder, leaning against the back wall of the elevator.

 

“Sorry you had to sit through that bullshit.” Joe didn’t look up when he spoke, he just stared at his shoes.

 

“That was not bullshit, Joe. It was your family,” Webster said, giving his shoulder a nudge.

 

“I can think of a million of ways I’dve rather spent my Saturday night,” Joe said.

 

“Hey, it’s not even ten. We’ve still got plenty of time,” Webster replied.

 

Joe smiled. It wasn’t quite back to full force, but it was something. And at this point Webster would take what he could get. The elevator doors opened and they walked to their room in a subdued fashion. A complete one eighty from the way that they had run there the night before. When they got inside, Joe grabbed him, pulling him into a kiss. It wasn’t frantic or rushed. It was like they had all the time in the world. Like in the morning, Webster wouldn’t have to follow his mother home. It was a preview of what was to come, a preview of what life would be like when they had their own space and could lock the world outside.

 

Webster pulled back and rested his head against Joe’s. “I don’t want to go to sleep tonight. I want to cram as much of this,” Webster gestured between the two of them, “as I can into the next few hours. I don’t want to lose time with you sleeping.”

 

“Ok,” Joe smiled and combed his fingers through the side of Web’s hair. “We can do that.” He grabbed Webster again and pulled him into a kiss. This time though, the desperation was back. The frantic clash of teeth, tongues, and just not enough time. Joe steered them towards the bed and when Webster’s legs hit the back of the bed, Joe shoved him down onto it. Webster slid back towards the headboard so that he was sitting back against it. Still standing at the end of the bed, Joe pulled off his shirt and shucked his jeans and boxers before he climbed into the bed.

 

“I see you are going to make me do all the work,” Joe said as he pulled off Webster’s shoes and tossed his socks in the same direction.

 

Webster smiled. “Don’t pretend like you don’t like it.”

 

“What? Undressing you?” Joe said, his hands under Webster’s t-shirt. His fingers skimmed along Webster’s rib cage.

 

“Yeah,” Webster replied. “You always seem to take your sweet time doing it.”

 

Joe leaned in so he was speaking right into Web’s ear, his lips moving along the shell of Webster’s ear as he spoke. “Because I’m the only one that gets to do it.”

 

Webster blushed as he whined in the back of his throat, embarrassed of the noises that Joe managed to pull out of him.

 

When Joe pulled back, he had that smug look on his face that he always did when he managed to reduce Webster to noises. He gripped the hem of Webster’s shirt and with Webster’s help, managed to get it over his head. Next Joe turned his attention to Webster’s fly. His belt was quickly pulled through the loops and tossed over the side of the bed. Joe made short work of his pants and they were tossed along with his boxers over the end of the bed. Joe retrieved the lube from the nightstand while he straddled Webster’s hips. Webster watched as Joe coated his fingers with lube.

 

“What are you doing?” Webster asked, because normally Webster did tend to get a little bit more in the way of foreplay.

 

“Doing all the work,” Joe said, lifting his hips and reaching behind him with his lube coated fingers.

 

“Jesus,” Webster said and his hips rocked up.

 

“Whoa there, you’re going to have to give me a minute,” Joe said, smirking at him.

 

“Fuck, Lieb.” Webster’s hands came up to rest on Joe’s hips and he leaned his forehead against Joe’s.

 

Joe leaned forward and kissed Webster before he pulled back with a gasp. “Ahh fuck, the angle sucks.”

 

Webster retrieved the lube off the bedspread. “Here, let me.” Webster slicked his fingers and traced one of them around Joe’s hole before sliding it in next to Joe’s.

 

“Ahh fuck,” Joe said before he removed his fingers and braced himself against Webster’s leg.

 

As Webster slowly worked another finger into Joe, he realized that this was the first time that Joe had let him do this. Over the summer when they did this, they had been going for speed and practice made Joe faster. Even though Webster had done this to himself, he’d never felt Joe’s muscles grip and yield around his fingers. And he had to admit he got a little lost in it.

 

“Fuck, Web. You know I’ve done this before, right?” Joe rocked his hips down into Web palm.

 

“I haven’t,” Webster said as he watched his fingers slid in and out of Joe.

 

“Fuck, uh, I’m not going to let you do it again if you don’t hurry the fuck up,” Joe swore.

 

Webster sighed. “Fine.” Webster removed his fingers as Joe slicked up his dick.

 

Webster watched as Joe aligned himself and slowly began to lower himself down on Webster’s dick.

 

“Shit, Lieb.” Webster gripped Joe’s hips.

 

Joe grunted and his thighs flexed as he lifted himself up again. Webster snapped his hips up to meet Joe as he worked back down. As they met in the middle, they found their rhythm as Webster flexed his hips up and Joe rocked his back down. The room was filled with breathy gasps, broken moans, and the sound of skin slapping against skin. Joe came hard with Webster’s hand on his dick and his own hand clutching the headboard until his knuckles turned white. With one last thrust up into Joe’s tightened muscles, Webster followed him over the edge.

 

With a considerable amount of effort, Joe maneuvered himself off of Webster so that he could lie beside him.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Webster swore, still trying to catch his breath. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

 

Joe smiled and dragged his bottom lip over his teeth. “I watched a considerable amount of porn before we started having phone sex.”

 

Webster laughed because he couldn’t help it. “Well, I guess I’m glad you did your research.”

Joe smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Webster shook his head before he rolled over so that he could lie on Joe’s chest, his head pillowed against Joe’s peck.

 

As he lay there, Webster felt Joe press a kiss against his forehead and another further behind his hairline. He felt Joe nuzzle his cheek against Webster’s head. And then he heard Joe say, in a calm and steady voice, “I love you.”

 

Even though Webster’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest, even though he desperately wanted to see Joe’s face, Webster stayed where he was, nuzzled his nose against Joe’s chest, and said, “I love you too.”  

 


	17. Seventeen

Joe rubbed a hand across his face as he sat on the bed and watched Web button up the shirt of his uniform. It would be sexy if he wasn’t somewhat exhausted. Who was he kidding, it was still sexy. He smiled as his eyes met Web’s in the mirror.

 

“Stop it,” Web said.

 

“What?” Joe said, feigning innocence.

 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Webster said.

 

“Looking at you like what?” Joe asked.

 

“Like you want to tear my clothes off.” Web replied.

 

“Yeah, I don’t think I can,” Joe smirked.

 

Web rolled his eyes before returning his attention to his backpack and duffel. Joe continued to watch as he packed his things.

 

"I did bring your birthday present," Web said as he folded up his things and fit them into his duffel. "I know it's a little early, but I wanted you to have time to enjoy it before camp. I'll send the card closer to your actual birthday."

 

Joe never sent cards, he never knew what to say. Knew whatever he did come up with would pale in comparison to Web's words. He didn't like losing even when he knew there wasn't a contest.

 

Web held out the box, wrapped very neatly in San Francisco classifieds.

 

"They won't let you take wrapped presents on an airplane," Web shrugged. "My options in the lobby were somewhat limited."

 

Joe smiled and took it. "Shit, it's heavy." The box was about as long as his forearm. But it was thicker than any of the graphic novels Webster had sent before. He'd liked those, there hadn't been anything wrong with them. Even if it was a little morbid getting  The Killing Joke for Christmas. "If this is a box of Hershey bars, I'll be so grateful you'll miss your flight."

 

Webster smiled, but he shifted and Joe picked up on his nerves. Joe popped the tape on the side of the box; he was always careful with Web's wrapping because it was always so perfect. Whereas his tended to look like it fell of the back of truck. As he pulled the wrapping aside, he recognized the side of the container, or at least he thought he did.

 

"Holy shit, you didn't," Joe said as he ripped the wrapping paper back from the top of the box. There, sitting in the tattered remains of classifieds, was the Marvel phase one suitcase. Since the concept photos for this boxset leaked online, Joe had looked at it wistfully. He wanted it badly, but he knew he'd never be able to afford it. He hadn't mentioned it, not to his mom and certainly not to Web, worried he might actually buy it. Joe traced his fingers reverently across the case.

 

"Before you start, it didn't cost as much as you think it did," Web said. "Barnes and Noble had their sale. It was like sixty percent off so..." He trailed off, probably because Joe still hadn't said anything because his brain was still stuck on holy shit.

 

"You know, I wanted this since I saw it," Joe said, fingers still moving over the box.

 

"So you should have it." Web sat down on the bed next to Joe.

 

"Just like that?" Joe asked.

 

"There are easier boyfriends to have and you stick it out with me anyway," Web said. "Your parents were wonderful last night and mine are never going to be like that. They aren't going to have you over for dinner or ask if you want to stay over. And it makes me feel like shit asking you to accept that."

 

Joe leaned over and kissed Web because what else could he do. They knew going in this wasn't going to be easy. They pulled apart when the alarm on Web's phone went off. Web had set a ‘you absolutely need to leave the room’ alarm the night before. Joe felt Web’s shoulders draw up beneath his hands.

 

“God, this is harder than summer camp,” Web said as he looked at his open duffel sitting on the dresser.

 

“Hey,” Joe said, guiding Web’s chin so he was looking at him again. “It’s going to be ok. You just have a couple of weeks left until school’s out. After that, camp will be here before you know it.”

 

Web nodded, but Joe could see the toll those weeks were going to take on Web written all over his face.

 

“It’s the downhill run,” Joe said.

 

“It’s finals week,” Web said.

 

“You’ll be fine. You’re smarter than you think you are,” Joe replied.

 

When Webster didn’t reply, Joe pulled his forward and kissed him.

 

“You’re smarter than you think you are,” Joe repeated as he slid his nose against Web’s.

 

Web nodded. “I make it harder than it is. I know that, but I can’t figure out how to stop.”

Joe didn’t know what to say, so he ran his fingers though Web’s hair, stroking his fingers through the wavy locks of Web’s hair.

 

Web squeezed Joe’s knee. “Come on, let’s go meet my mom.” The way he said it wasn’t angry or bitter like Joe thought it might be. Just with a shrug of indifference. As if he didn’t care or couldn’t wait to have it over with. Web got up and closed his duffel.

 

Joe got up to join him and put his hand on top of Web’s over the handle of the case. “I love you.”

 

Web smiled. “I know you do and I’ve known you have for a long time. It makes this easier knowing that you do.”

 

Joe kissed him again before they started getting their things together. Web walked to the doorway like he was condemned. When they got into the hallway, Joe took Web’s hand, the one not hoisting his duffel over his shoulder. Web squeezed his hand.  Joe honestly didn’t know if it was going to be ok. He knew Web was bad at stress and he knew Web had a lot heading his way. He just hoped that Web could get passed it and that somehow, Joe would be able to help him along the way.

 

*~*

 

The ride down to the lobby was one of the longest of Webster’s life.  If it could have been avoided, Webster would have done nearly anything to keep Joe from meeting his mother. He knew his mother would be condescending; there was almost zero chance she wouldn’t be. She was with nearly everyone. Webster also wasn’t completely sure that he could count on Joe not to lose his temper. In a way it was flattering that Joe would feel the urge to stand up for him, but in the long run it would just make things harder.

 

When the elevator door opened, his mother was blessedly nowhere in sight. It was nice not to be rounded on the second they got there. As they walked over to the area where the hotel was still serving breakfast, there sitting at a table, Webster saw his mother. She looked exactly like what she was...New York money. Her dark hair was pinned up in twist. She was wearing an olive green dress and black heels that cost more than some families made in a week. Her attention was completely devoted to the newspaper that she was reading; she would regurgitate these articles later at cocktail parties so that she would appear worldly and well-traveled. While the trick worked on most of her friends, who were guilty of the same offense, the superficial nature was not lost one Webster.

 

“Let me guess. That’s your mom,” Joe said, gesturing to her.

 

“I do have that misfortune,” Webster replied.

 

Joe sighed. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

 

“You could still run for the hills. She hasn’t spotted you yet.” Webster nodded his head in the direction of the exit behind them.

 

“And miss my daily dose of condescension?” Joe said.

 

Webster smiled. “Just remember, you asked for this.”

 

Webster’s mother did not notice their presence until Webster squeaked the chair so he could set down his duffel. This caused her eyes to dart up first to Webster before they quickly settled on Joe. Joe, who had managed to get his hair to do something that resembled order. Joe, standing next to him in a black t-shirt and jeans. Webster could see the wheels spinning in his mother’s head.

 

“Mother, this is my friend Joe.” Webster hated the words as they left his mouth. He wanted to say this was his boyfriend. He wanted to tell her this was the guy he was in love with. That Joe was the reason he wanted to go to Berkeley. Before he could do something fundamentally stupid, Joe cut in.

 

“His friend from camp,” Joe said, with a smile on his face that looked so incredibly fake to Webster. Webster’s mother was completely indifferent to the fact that anything was out of the ordinary. In fact, her face softened ever so slightly so that she was no longer looking at Joe like he was gum on the bottom of her shoe.

 

“Are you considering attending Berkeley as well?” she asked as she folded up the paper.

 

Joe shrugged his shoulders. “I might. If it’s good enough for a former Chief of Justice, that has to say something. But our cabin leader has been giving Stanford the hard sell and I have a while to decide.”

 

“David will be attending Harvard,” his mother said as she got up and began gathering her things .

 

“Those are going to be some fairly expensive grad students you’re paying for,” Joe said. “I’d rather go to a school where professors don’t consider teaching me a necessary evil.”

 

“Well, Harvard’s law program is superior,” Webster’s mother started and Webster’s eyes widened when Joe cut her off.

 

“Not if you want to study intellectual property or environmental law.” And if Joe looked smug, Webster figured he had a right.

 

Webster watched as his mother’s face changed. She was now regarding Joe with the same level of curiosity that she gave the New York Times crossword. Most likely because she could count on one hand the number of times she’d been interrupted. But since she was very skilled at playing her cards very close to her chest, she simply informed Webster that she would be in the car.

 

“Been doing some research, have you?” Webster said once his mother was safely out of earshot.  

 

“Maybe a little,” Joe said with a shrug.

 

“Now I just have to convince her I’m incredibly interested in intellectual property,” Webster said.

 

“Well, in a way you are,” Joe said. “You’re going to create it.”

 

“You have an answer for everything today,” Webster replied.

 

“It’s one of the things you love about me,” Joe smirked at Webster.

 

Webster rolled his eyes, but he grabbed Joe’s arm and steered him over to the corner of the lobby that contained the brochures for local attractions. He crowded Joe into a corner and kissed him. It was all tongue and a little too much teeth, but Webster figured it got the point across.

 

“I’m in the downhill run,” Webster said, pulling away. “I’m in the downhill run; I have under a month to go. In less than a month I’ll be at summer camp. I can get through this and I am smarter then I think I am. And you love me and you’ll pick up when I call.”

 

Joe nodded and straightened Webster’s tie. “And you are suddenly very interested in intellectual property.”

 

Webster couldn’t help the snort of laughter as he shook his head.

 

“You laugh, but I think we can sell this,” Joe said.

 

“You and Grant seem to be able to do anything you put your minds too,” Webster replied.

 

“So do you.” Joe’s voice had turned strangely serious. “You forged a consent form and if you hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have gotten caught. You have a devious side that is strangely sexy.”

 

“And now I have allies,” Webster said.

 

“Damn straight,” Joe smiled. “Berkeley or bust.”

 

“Berkeley or bust,” Webster repeated, finding comfort in the mantra. He leaned in and kissed Joe again knowing that this one would have to last. He had one more month in hell to get through and he knew that he’d feel every day of it.


	18. Eighteen

Joe got back home still holding the suitcase in his hand. He was toeing off his shoes when his mom stuck her head out of the kitchen.

 

"So David made his flight then?" she said, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen.

 

"Yeah," Joe said, sounding sad even to his own ears. "Couldn't convince Berkeley to take him before he graduated high school."

 

"What do you have there?" she asked, gesturing to the suitcase.

 

"My birthday present. He brought it out early," Joe said.

 

"That was sweet of him." His mother smiled before she returned to the kitchen.

 

"He spent too much money on it," Joe said as he sat down at the kitchen table.

 

"Well, he's probably trying to make up for the things he lacks with the thing he has," Joe's mother said, returning her attention to whatever she was making.

 

"What does that mean?"

 

"It means that you lied," his mother said, smiling fondly. "You might be quite good at fibbing your way out of things, but your darling boy is not. His mother was not busy, she simply didn't care. Because he's a sweet boy, David knows this is not ok, so he's trying to make it up to you when his family lets him down. And you lied for him for the same reason I lie to people at temple when I tell them your father is sick versus watching football. You love him and you don't want anyone to think less of him."

 

Joe didn't know what to say to that except that he was mortified that he was that obvious over dinner. "He's making this huge decision just because of me and I'm worried it's wrong."

 

"Berkeley is not a bad school," his mother said.

 

"It's not Harvard," Joe said.

 

"Nowhere is Harvard, dear," his mom said. "But no matter how hard Harvard tries, it's not going to be close to you. And because of that David is never going to see it as desirable. I let your father convince me to leave my family and follow him to complete different country. And David is going to choose a school that is close to you for the same reason. Because when you love someone you want to shrink the physical distance between the two of you as small as is humanly possible. It's a selfish thing to say, but I admire the devotion."

 

"I thought you weren't going to like him," Joe said.

 

"Every parent hopes their children's lives will be easy.  And even in California, having a boyfriend isn't going to be easy, especially with parents like his. But what every parent really wants is for their children to be happy and find someone that will love their child as much as they do. I can tell he's crazy about you and that's enough. Even if it wasn't what I pictured, I want you to find a small bit of happiness in this world that is yours to hold on too. If it’s David, it’s David."

 

Joe got up from the table, walked over, and hugged his mom.

 

"Do me a favor would you? Cheer up a bit. Summer camp is only a month away. It would be nice if you weren't moping around here for the next month.”

 

"I'll try," Joe said, smiling.

 

"And maybe haul your camp things out and make sure everything fits. I don't want to have to go shopping Saturday night when you have to be at the airport so early."

 

"Yes, mother," Joe said as he went over to the table to retrieve his movies.

 

She smiled at him and he returned the smile before heading down the hall to his room. He sighed as he sat down on his bed and took out his phone from his pocket. His fingers slid across the screen before he found Grant’s number and pressed call.

 

“Going through boyfriend withdrawal already?” Grant asked when he picked up the phone.

 

“Something like that,” Joe said, leaning back until he was lying on the bed, his feet still planted on the floor.

 

“So what did you think of the Wicked Witch of the Hamptons?” Grant asked.

 

Joe smiled. “She causes a lot of trouble for someone so easy to manipulate.”

 

Grant laughed.

 

“Oh, if anyone asks, Web’s expressed an interest in intellectual property,” Joe said.

 

“Ok,” Grant said and Joe could tell that he wanted to ask more, but he must have thought better of it because he didn’t press Joe.

 

“So how is your lover boy?” Joe asked.

 

“His projects are due next week, so he sounds kinda freaked out the phone. So I thought maybe I’d come up this weekend, stock the fridge, and make sure he eats something,” Grant said.

 

“Aww, so it’s not just us. You even mother hen the people you’re sleeping with,” Joe said.

 

“Fuck you,” Grant said, but there wasn’t any heat in it; there might even have been a bit of laughter. “The only reason I’m taking this abuse is because you’re worried about your boyfriend.”

 

“I’m that obvious, huh?” Joe said as he ran his fingers through his hair.

 

“He hasn’t even been gone twelve hours yet and you’re already calling me.”

 

Joe sighed. “He’s got a lot on his plate right now.”

 

“And there’s nothing you can do about it,” Grant said. “I know you want to fix it all, but some of these things Web’s going to have to figure out for himself. And some of these things he’s going to have to figure out how to deal with on his own. Finals week is going to a part of Web’s life for at least four more years, probably longer than that. He’s going to have to figure out a way to deal with that on his own. There are some things we can’t fix for him even if we want to.”

 

“That doesn’t really make me feel any better,” Joe said.

 

“I know,” Grant said. “That’s all I’ve got right now. Other than to tell you that summer camp starts in a month.”

 

Joe sighed. He hoped that when Web had heard him say that he had felt better. Because right now, Joe just felt like shit.

 

Grant seemed to sense this because the next thing he asked was, “So why is Web suddenly interested in intellectual property?”

 

Joe laughed and began to recount his first meeting with the Wicked Witch of the Hamptons.

 

*~*

 

Webster sighed as he settled into his chair on the train. The last few hours with his mother had started to grate on him. In the time that he’d been in school, he’d gotten used to not having concentrated doses of his parents. After the last few hours, he now knew what a blessing that was. As the train pulled away from the station, Webster dug his phone out of his bag and turned it back on. It buzzed to life with emails, app notifications, and one text from Joe.

 

_Let me know when you get to school._

 

Webster decide that train was close enough and besides, it would give him something to take his mind off of where he was going. Joe must not have been doing much because he answered after the first ring.

 

“Did you make it home already?”

 

Webster smiled. “No, I’m on the train and I missed the sound of your voice.”

 

Webster listened to the snort of laughter on the other end of the phone.

 

“I know, I’m a girl. Mock me if you will,” Webster said.

 

“And what do you want to hear me say?” Joe said and Webster shouldn’t have been surprised that it sounded dirty.

 

“Did you not hear me say I’m on the train home? How come I’m always the one having to deal with teasing while I’m in public?” Webster hissed into the phone to avoid being heard by the people around him in the sparsely populated train.

 

“I don’t know. That sounds like a personal problem,” Joe said.

 

“It sounds like my boyfriend is a sadist,” Webster muttered.

 

Joe laughed. “Don’t pretend like you don’t like it.”

 

“Couldn’t if I tried,” Webster said. “Even though my mother thinks you’re a horrible influence.”

 

“Try, because your mother thinks I’m horrible influence,” Joe said. “Did she actually use those words?”

 

“I’d still be hung up on you even if my mother was crazy about you. She actually said questionable influence, but her tone said horrible. Did my stock go up with your mother any?”

 

“She called you my darling boy this morning when I got home,” Joe said.

 

“And that’s a good thing?” Webster didn’t even bother trying to mask his surprise.

 

“That would be a complete 180 in you favor,” Joe said. “I think she thinks that you’ll be on her side with the whole going to college thing.”

 

“Well, won’t she be disappointed,” Webster said.

 

“And she was just starting to like you,” Joe said. “She actually said don’t you want to go to college like your boyfriend.”

 

“Trust me, I’m going to go through enough higher education for the both of us,” Webster said and he knew he didn’t sound thrilled about it, but that because he wasn’t. He knew that he wanted his PHD and he knew that he was going to have to work his ass off to get there. But something about it seemed more manageable with Joe there. Whatever grad school and a PHD had in store for him, he knew he would be living with Joe by then.

 

“I don’t think she’s going to see that as a reason to let up,” Joe said.

 

“Well, she came around on you having a boyfriend, maybe she will come around on this too,” Webster replied.

 

“We’ll see,” Joe said, though he didn’t sound very optimistic.

 

“If she doesn’t, it won’t matter, you’ll do it anyway and we’ll figure it out. I mean, eventually my mom’s going to figure out that I’m not pre-law. So we’ll have to figure out what to do when that happens.”

 

“Did she have a change of heart?” Joe asked.

 

“She didn’t mention Berkeley on the plane,” Webster said, and he hadn’t bought it up. Probably because he was afraid that she was going say no. That she was going put her foot down in some final way that would mean no summer camp. He hadn’t really considered that a possibility, not until his mother had labeled Joe a questionable influence. Now it was a very real consideration and the thought of losing that one safe haven was causing Webster no small amount of anxiety.

 

“Well, it can’t be that bad or she’d have spent the whole flight raging about it,” Joe said.   “I mean, if she was really against it, wouldn’t you know by now?”

 

“Maybe,” Webster said, finding some comfort in that.

 

“Worst case scenario, I end up cutting hair in New Haven,” Joe said.

 

Webster smiled that Joe’s research had also included Harvard.

 

“You know, they wouldn’t even make me take my exams again?” Joe said casually. “They just make you pay a hundred bucks to process it or some shit, which is highway robbery but it’s still doable. That’s not the part that worries me.”

 

“And what is?” Webster said, as he tried to break the moment they were having without getting his feelings all over it.

 

“I live in California. Winter isn’t something I have a lot of experience with,” Joe said with laughter in his voice.

 

Webster smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.”

 

“Really? And how do you propose to do that?” Joe asked, and just like that they were back to dirty talk.

 

“I’ll buy a quilt,” Webster deadpanned.

 

“You’re not prepared to get any more creative than that? Come on, writer boy. Surely you can do better than buying me blanket,” Joe teased.

 

Webster pretended to think about it. “I’ll have to think about it and get back to you.”

 

On the other end of the phone, someone called Joe’s name. “I’m being summoned,” Joe confirmed.

 

“I’ll text you when I get back to school,” Webster said.

 

“Ok, I love you. Talk to you later,” Joe said, followed by the beeping that signaled the line had been disconnected.

 

Pulling his phone away from his ear, Webster looked at it, puzzled for a moment. There were no in-betweens with Joe. Either he couldn’t say those words out loud or he just casually dropped them at the end of phone calls.  Still staring at his phone, an idea came to Webster and he opened his messages to Joe before he lost his nerve.

 

_Imagine the quilt on our bed, in our bedroom. Imagine us under it. Imagine me gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. Imagine your fingers in my hair, pulling just hard enough that it might hurt. Imagine that I’m sucking your dick, with my cheeks hollowed out while you slide down my throat. Do you think that would warm you up?_

 

Webster sent the message and set his phone aside, confident that he’d hear from Joe as soon as he got that message.  


	19. Nineteen

It started with a spot on his forearm. Which, for the life of him, would not stop itching. It started Saturday with that one angry spot that was turning slightly red. He wrote it off as all the climate changes he’d been through in the last few days.  Besides, finals were just around the corner and he had more important things to worry about. It wasn’t until Sunday that he started to notice it on the other arm.

 

When he’d mentioned it to Leckie, he’d wanted to know if Webster was allergic to anything. And that was the weird part because no, he wasn’t. By Sunday afternoon, the rash was on the inside of his thighs and around his collarbone. That was when Leckie suggested that maybe they should tell Larkin. Webster agreed because it was obvious that shit had gone a little bit sideways if Leckie was turning to Larkin. It shouldn’t have been surprising that Larkin was no help at all, instead handing them off to the school nurse. And after Nurse Robbins got a look at him, he ended up in the emergency room.

 

Webster had never been to an emergency room before. He’d been a healthy kid and when most of your interests involved a library, your chances for injury was limited. The closest he ever came to an emergency room was being rushed to his pediatrician when he was three. He’d been standing on a chair, trying to get his mother’s attention and he’d succeeded in doing so when he’d fallen off the chair and had cracked his chin open on the corner of the chair. Webster didn’t remember most of it, just that his stitches had been blue. He didn’t really consider his life to be incomplete since he didn’t have this chance. But now he was sitting with the school nurse and Leckie, who had smooth-talked his way into coming along. Because he was not bleeding to death, they sat there for a while. Leckie was bouncing his legs nervously and kept shooting looks at first the nurse and then Webster. Finally, he decided to text Webster.

 

_Are you going to call Joe?_

 

Webster looked at his phone and felt bad because it hadn’t occurred to him. Now that it had, he decided that it wasn’t life threatening and texted Leckie back.

 

_Maybe after we know something._

 

Leckie glared at his phone and started typing something before he sighed and put his phone back in his pocket. Webster knew it wasn’t what Leckie wanted to hear, but Webster knew Joe would worry and any amount of time he could delay that, he would. Besides, what was Webster going to tell him? ‘Hi Joe. It’s me, I think I’m allergic to my life?’

 

Webster wasn’t stupid and since he’d always had an interest in psychology, he was pretty sure he knew what this was. This was one of the side effects of stress on the body. Webster was breaking out in hives for the same reason that he wasn’t sleeping. He was worried about his finals. He was worried that he wasn’t going to study enough or study the wrong thing and he was going to do something to fuck up his 4.0. All year Grant, Hoob, Leckie, and especially Joe had been warning him something like this would happen. Had been pleading with him to find some way to de-stress or, in Joe’s case, offering phone sex. But he had insisted that he was fine, that he could handle it, and that he had done this before. Turns out what they tell you is true. Junior year is different; junior year does feel like you are dying.

 

At that moment, the nurse excused herself again so she could try and reach Webster’s parents. He wished her luck with that, he really did. He doubted she’d get ahold of them; that’s why they’d signed those medical release forms. So they wouldn’t have to bother if something ever happened to their son. The only other thing he remembered about going and getting his chin closed was that the nanny had taken him to the doctor. She used to laugh about it, looking back at how she, along with a doctor and four nurses, had had to hold him down. Webster figured that story told you everything you needed to know about his childhood.

 

The second the nurse was out of earshot, Leckie rounded on him. “What the fuck do you mean maybe you’ll tell Joe? That is fucked up bullshit!”

 

“You want me to start calling Hoosier every time you crawl so far in your own head that you can’t get out of bed?” Webster snapped.

 

Leckie leaned back from Webster as if Webster had smacked him.

 

“I didn’t think so,” Webster muttered, now feeling like shit because he knew that had crossed a line.

 

“If I ended up in the emergency room,” Leckie muttered. “Yeah, if I ended up in the emergency room, I would want you to.”

 

“He’s going to freak out,” Webster said, shaking his head. “And it’s probably nothing.”

 

“Yeah, psychosomatic hives are no big deal. They’ll probably just give you a lollipop and send you home,” Leckie said.

 

Webster wanted to tell Leckie to go fuck himself, but he knew Leckie was only trying to help. And this was kind of Leckie’s area of expertise. Lord knows he spent enough time with people trying to diagnose him, he should be able to do it by now.

 

“After we get home, ok?” Webster said. He tried to keep his tone even and measured. Tried to show that he wasn’t looking for a fight anymore. “Once we get back to the room and I don’t have Nurse Ratched breathing down my neck.”

 

Leckie eyes narrowed. “I’m only letting you get away with this because of the Cuckoo’s Nest reference.”

 

Webster shook his head and tried to fight the urge to scratch his arm. Not too long after that, he was ushered into the back. They gave him a shot of antihistamines and a round of medication that he was supposed to take over the course of the week. If the hives reappeared, he was supposed to come back. And they suggested that he have a follow up with an allergist when he got home for the summer. Webster nodded his head in all the right places, but he knew it was all in his head.

 

*~*

 

Joe was sitting in his room at his desk, putting the finishing touches on his website design project. It was due Monday so Sunday afternoon was completely last minute and it was cutting it close. He looked up to flip through the pages of his textbook when he heard his phone buzz beside him. He looked up to see that it was Web so he picked it up.

 

“Hey you. I thought you were studying for finals today?” Joe continued to look at the pages of his book, trying to find what he was looking for.

 

“Well I was,” Web said, sounding a little tried, like he’d just woken up. I had to take a little detour and don’t freak out, but I had to go to the emergency room…”

 

“You what?” Joe yelled.

 

“What did I say about freaking out?” Webster asked and had the gall to sound annoyed about it.

 

“You don’t get to tell me not to freak out and then use the phrase ‘emergency room’,” Joe argued.

 

“It was nothing…” Web protested.

 

“They don’t take you to the emergency room for nothing,” Joe said firmly.

 

“I broke out in hives, ok? That is not life threatening, I’m pretty sure they won’t kill me.” Web said before he yawned.

 

“How did you end up with hives?” Joe asked. He wasn’t going to admit that Web was right; those probably weren’t life threatening.

 

“Probably a stress reaction,” Webster said.

 

“Probably a‒” Joe started to repeat before Web cut him off.

 

“I know chances are good that whatever you are about to say Leckie already said it,” Webster said. “Now, I’m going to go because the meds they gave me are starting to kick in. So don’t worry so much and I love you.”

 

“I love you too. Hey, let me talk to Leckie for a second?” Joe asked, figuring it might be a good idea to check in with the one person in the room that was not heavily medicated.  

 

“Ok,” Web said sounding a little confused, but Joe doubted he was going to remember a lot of this.

 

“Hey Joe,” Leckie’s voice sounded through the speaker.

 

“What the hell happened?” Joe knew there wasn’t any reason to raise his voice to Leckie, but he couldn’t help it.

 

“Well, the hives turned up Saturday. They didn’t get better overnight and so this morning we went to the nurse and one thing led to another and we ended up at the emergency room. They gave him what is pretty much liquid Benadryl, so he’s going to take a nice long nap and probably wake up feeling a lot better in the morning. I’ll make sure he wakes up for class and shit. Don’t worry,” Leckie said, sounding relatively calm all thing considered.

 

“That’s not the part I’m worried about,” Joe said.

 

“Maybe this whole thing will be a wakeup call,” Leckie said. “We all think that we are fine until something points out that we really aren’t. This is maybe the biggest ‘I told you so’ we could have ask for. You know stress can do weird shit to the human body. I guess it’s better he get hives as a junior then have a heart attack at thirty-five. Let’s face it, he was on the fast track for one of those.”

 

“Yeah,” Joe said numbly.

 

“Hey look, he’s only got a week left here. I can get him through finals week and then he’s packed off to you and this mythical land of summer camp I keep hearing about,” Leckie said.

 

Joe sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

 

“Of course I am. I’m always right.” Leckie sounded incredibly smug.

 

Joe rolled his eyes. “If he comes out of his drug induced haze, would you have him call me again?”

 

“One condition,” Leckie said firmly. “No lecture. He knows and I already gave him no end of shit so he doesn’t need that from you too.”

 

“You’re going to let me play good cop?” Joe asked.

 

“Yeah, tough love is kinda our thing. I don’t think I have it in me to change tracks and be sickeningly sweet and supportive,” Leckie replied.

 

“I think I can handle supportive,” Joe said.

 

“Good,” Leckie said. “Because I want to like you, so don’t fuck this up.”

 

“Ok,” Joe said before reminding Leckie, “have him call me later.”

 

“Will do,” Leckie said before the line disconnected.   

 

After Leckie hung up, Joe sat there for a minute tapping his phone against the edge of his desk. He sighed and created a group text.

 

_To: Grant, Hoob_

_Web had a stress reaction and got hives today. They gave him some Benadryl and sent him home._

 

It wasn’t even a few seconds later when a message appeared from Grant outside of the group text.

 

_Are you ok?_

 

Joe stared at the phone for a moment before typing: _Am I ok?_

 

_Yeah, Web’s fine. Prescription Benadryl is awesome. I’m not worried about him, who I am worried about is you._

 

 _Just worried about him._ Joe responded.

 

_He’ll be fine, maybe he’ll finally stop getting himself so worked up over finals._

 

Joe nodded, reminded of what Leckie said. _I didn’t want him to figure it out like this._

 

_Nobody did. But maybe this way he’ll listen. You two are stubborn that way._

 

Joe smiled and was just about to respond to Grant when a text popped up from Hoob.

 

_Poor guy. Don’t worry so much, I’m sure he’ll be ok._

 

Joe smiled at his phone, he had good friends. They had good friends. Whatever shit they got themselves into, it seemed clear to Joe that they would never have to go at it alone. Between Grant, Hoob, and Web’s weird as hell roommate, they’ve constructed a nice little support system for themselves.

 

_Thanks, Hoob._

 

 _Camp’s just around the corner that will help more than anything._ Hoob replied.

 

 _Yeah, I hope so._ Joe sent back.

 

 _I know so._ Hoob answered.

 

Joe smiled and set his phone back on his desk before he took a deep breath and started back in on his final project.

 


	20. Twenty

Webster opened his closet doors and stared down at the rack of clothes. He had a lot of packing to do. He’d been putting it off during finals week, but now he had the evening to do it since he would be catching a plane back to New York in the morning. Then it was three days at home before he was off to summer camp. He could hardly wait. He had just set about removing the first shirt from its hanger when the door opened, banging off the wall.

 

“Free at fucking last,” Leckie said as he entered the room, slamming the door behind him. “That is the last time I have to sit in those folding chairs and have my head examined.”

 

Webster smiled as he folded the shirt in his arms. Leckie collapsed, spread-eagle on his bed.

 

“Fuck,” he swore, looking around the room. “I have to pack this shit up tonight.”

 

Webster couldn’t help the snort of laughter.

 

“Hey, want to do it for me?” Leckie asked.

 

“Oh no,” Webster said as he started to stack his folded clothes on his bed. “You just want me to do it so you can go run off and suck face with Hoosier.”

 

“Probably not the only thing I’m going to suck,” Leckie said, getting up off his bed and opening his own closet.

 

“Jesus Christ, how many times do I have to tell you I don’t want to know every detail of your sex life?” Webster said, shaking his head.

 

“Oh come on, Web. Sharing is caring. Don’t tell me that you’ve never wanted to tell someone about all the kinky shit that I’m pretty sure you and Joe now get up to.”

 

Webster smiled, but he continued removing his clothes from hangers.

 

Leckie sighed. “You are actually no fun.”

 

While Webster was neatly folding his clothes, Leckie threw his suitcase open on the bed and began to toss his clothes into it. Webster paused and watched the mess forming in Leckie’s suitcase.

 

“Is your anal retentive streaking kicking in yet?” Leckie asked, leaning out of his closet.

 

“Not enough to do it for you,” Webster said, pulling the last of his pants out of the closet.

 

“Damn,” Leckie muttered, returning his attention to the mess inside his closet.

 

Webster smiled before he set on his drawers in the dresser. He pulled his t-shirts out of the drawer, trying to get them all in one swoop. He forgot about the lube he had stashed in the back of the drawer and when he pulled the shirts out, it dropped onto the floor. Webster heard it hit the floor and he froze, closing his eyes because there was no way that Leckie hadn’t seen it.

 

“Holy fuck, is that lube?” Though he was talking in a hushed voice, Leckie sounded almost giddy. “Oh, I’m so proud.”

 

Webster groaned and adjusted the shirts in his hand so he could retrieve the lube and walk over to his bed. Webster sat the stack down on the bed, but Leckie had rushed over to the bed and retrieved the lube.

 

“Holy shit, you’ve used it,” Leckie said. “I’m so proud.”

 

Webster felt his cheeks heat up as he took the lube out of Leckie’s hands. After that, he stuffed it in the bottom of his duffel.

 

“Oh,” Leckie said, and Webster knew his blush had given him away.

 

“I am not going to sit here and discuss the joys of anal sex with you,” Webster said, walking back over to the drawers so he could pull out his toiletries. He started stacking them on the counter so after he got ready in the morning, he could just rake them off into his duffel.

 

“Oh come on, Web. This may be my last chance at a gay roommate,” Leckie said, bouncing onto the bed. “What are the odds I get this lucky next year?”

 

Webster paused, deodorant in hand. “Wait, we aren’t rooming together next year?” Webster was suddenly very hurt. He’d thought they were building a friendship or had built one. Now it seemed like Leckie was just passing the time. “Did you put in for a roommate transfer?”

 

Leckie shook his head. “It’s just normally no one signs up to ride on this crazy train more than once. I figured since you were a nice guy, you just didn’t rub it in my face. I thought it was decent of you.”

 

“Well, just to clear the air,” Webster said, gesturing at Leckie with his deodorant stick. “I’m living with you next year.”

 

Leckie smiled at him and the look in Leckie’s eyes honestly made Webster want to hug him. But when Leckie blinked, the look was gone, replaced with unbridled glee that Webster had seen when Leckie first discovered the lube. “Does this mean we are going to bond over our sexual experience?”

 

Webster smiled and shook his head as he retrieved the ziplock bags he’d brought to pack his desk. “So you took pity on poor Hoosier and let him round home base?”

 

“In this very room. We didn’t really miss you while you were gone,” Leckie said with a shrug before returning to his packing.

 

“I’m so proud,” Webster said as he sat down at his desk and started to remove his things. Webster reached inside his drawer to pull out the condoms that Leckie had hidden there. Only to find that they weren’t there.

 

“Yeah, we used those,” Leckie said. “I wanted to make sure if we got swept again, they wouldn’t find any on your side of the room.”

 

“Thanks,” Webster said, strangely touched.

 

“I’ve still got some if you have a need,” Leckie said, raising his eyebrows a couple of times.

 

Webster felt himself blush before he spoke. “We don’t…I mean, there hasn’t been anyone else so...”

 

“Aww, that is so cute,” Leckie said as he shoved the last of his clothes into his suitcase.

 

“Shut up,” Webster said, shaking his head. He paused for a moment and considered Leckie for a second. He thought of everything they had been through over the course of the year. Leckie’s fights with their RA, Webster’s parents, Leckie’s depression, and Webster’s anxiety. Somewhere over the course of the year, he realized how much he’d come to rely on Leckie. And that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have someone to talk about this with.

 

Webster cleared his throat. “Thanks for the blowjob tips.”

 

Leckie smiled like it was Christmas. “Was Joe pleased?”

 

“More than once,” Webster said, and he knew he was blushing like mad, but Leckie just smiled that lopsided smile of his.

 

*~*

 

Joe glared at the screen behind the airport attendant’s head. He’d been glaring at it since he got here, having run from one side of LAX to the other. He wanted to scream. His flight was delayed two hours. That was two hours of time he was going to lose with Web. When an attendant moved in front of the screen blocking his view, he turned his glare to his phone. He’d called Grant. He’d called Hoob. He’d even called his fucking boyfriend and no one was answering their goddamn phones. The small part of Joe’s brain that was still clinging to reason pointed out that that was probably because they had to catch flights of their own. He was now stuck here, waiting until one of them picked up their goddamn phone.

 

He’d called his parents too. His mother had told him not to worry, summer camp would still be there when he got there. He’d almost hung up on her. So with nothing better to do, he sat there with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the phone resting on his knee. Hating pretty much everyone.

 

Fifteen minutes later, finally there was a sign of life from his phone as the screen lit up with a phone call from Grant.

 

“So how’s the LAX?” Grant asked by way of greeting.

 

“Too fucking soon, man,” Joe said.

 

“Sorry, I was trying to make you feel better,” Grant said. “When does it look like you’ll get here?”

 

“I’m not going to get into Atlanta until seven which means I’ll miss the fuckin’ bus,” Joe said, glaring at the mother with small children that looked like she was about to protest his language.

 

“Give me a second, Lieb. I’ll get this figured out,” Grant said. And Joe listened as a conversation he could barely hear was carried out on the other end of the phone. He could hear two people, but he didn’t know who it was or what they were saying. So Joe just tapped his foot impatiently on the floor.

 

Finally, Grant returned. “Hey Lieb, I’ll be here to pick you up when your flight gets in. We’ll even stop somewhere and get cheeseburgers or something on the way back.”

 

Joe sighed. “Ok.”

 

“Cheer up, it will be ok,” Grant said. “Have you heard from Web yet?”

 

“No, he’s probably on his flight,” Joe said, and he knew he sounded even more miserable.

 

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Grant said. “Getting here that late, you miss all the stupid mandatory ‘welcome back’ crap. By the time you get here, no one will notice if you sneak off with your boyfriend. It’s my understanding you have a cabin leader that isn’t very strict on the rules.”

 

Joe smiled. That was something to think on.

 

“So cheer up and text me when you are actually leaving LA,” Grant said.

 

“Ok,” Joe nodded. When he hung up the phone, he felt a little better. His mom was right. Grant was right. But Joe was still pissed, they had been talking about nothing else for the last week. It had been a countdown.

 

_Five more days until we get to reclaim the swim dock._

_In four more days, you are going to come so hard you see stars._

_Three more days until I get to see you every day._

_In two more days, I’m going to spread you out on grass behind the archery range._

_This time tomorrow, I’ll have my tongue in your mouth._

 

And now that they had finally made it to today, two lost hours seemed completely unreasonable. It was lost time. Hell, he probably could have gotten Web off twice in that amount of time. He sighed in frustration and resumed glaring at the screen. He didn’t know how long he did that for, the next thing that drew him out of his stupor was the airport announcing that they were on schedule to meet their new departure time, and would begin boarding in the next thirty minutes. After that, he felt his phone buzz against his knee, Web’s name appearing on the screen.

 

“Hey you,” Joe said when he picked up the phone.

 

“Damn,” Web said. “I was hoping I’d miss you because you were already on a plane.”

 

“Nope, that is not the way my luck is going,” Joe said.

 

“I’m sorry,” Web said and for the first time when someone said it, it didn’t sound like Web was placating him.

 

“Thanks,” Joe said.

 

“Well, I guess that will give me a chance to unpack; since unlike some people, I don’t just throw everything in my footlocker and hope for the best.”

 

Joe smiled and shook his head.

 

“And I can probably get the beds made,” Web said. “Not that we will be using them right away, but then we won’t have to do it later.”

 

Joe smiled at the thought of the pair of them rotating beds last year. “Scope out the new kid for me too.”

 

“Ok,” Web replied. “Grant said he is a Cali boy. He wasn’t born there, but then neither were you.”

 

“What part of Cali?” Joe asked.

 

“Grant didn’t say,” Web replied. “But I’ll find out his favorite baseball team for you.”

 

“Because it really all hinges on that,” Joe said. “I don’t think I can be friends with another Dodgers fan.”

 

Web laughed on the other end of the phone.  “Hey, do me a favor and try not to be an asshole to everyone you meet between now and Atlanta.”

 

“Some of them deserve it,” Joe muttered.

 

“Still, I don’t want to spend the first thirty minutes that you’re here trying to talk you out of a bad mood,” Webster replied and Joe could tell he was enjoying this a little too much. Joe would find some subtle way to make him pay for that later.  

 

“Are you not up for the challenge?” Joe said.

 

“Well, you will just have to find out when you get here.” Webster sounded very smug, but Joe was confident that Webster could deliver.

 


	21. Twenty-One

 

“Web!”

 

Webster turned towards the sound of his name as he pulled his duffel out of the back of one of the camp vans. Hoob was walking towards him, a smile stretched from one side of his face to the other. He had his duffel slung over his shoulder and in his left hand he was carrying a long bag that Webster couldn't even begin to guess what it was.

 

“Hey Hoob,” Webster smiled as he shouldered his duffel. “What on earth is that?” Webster gestured to the bag Hoob was holding.

 

If it had been possible for Hoob’s smile to get wider, Webster would swear that did. “She is a T68 M4 Carbine Sniper Paintball Gun.”

 

“She?” Webster not even remotely surprised that Hoob thought enough of his gun to give it a gender.

 

“Named her Mac,” Hoob said as if it should be obvious.

 

“You named her after your girlfriend,” Webster said. “And they say romance is dead.”

 

Hoob might have been about to say something else when the crowd parted a little ways away from them to reveal Buck and Speirs pulling two boys apart that Webster had never seen before.

 

“The one that Buck has got is yours,” Grant said, having appeared out of nowhere over their shoulders.   

 

“No,” Hoob moaned.

 

Webster smiled, taking in the slightly stocky kid with dark brown hair falling carelessly across his forehead. “Well, Hoob. Look on the bright side, at least you won’t have to worry about him picking up any of Joe’s charming personality traits.”

 

“Yeah because he’s already fucking got ‘em,” Hoob said.

 

“Well, good luck with that,” Grant said, clapping Hoob on the shoulder.

 

“I hate you so much,” Hoob said before he took off walking towards their cabin.

 

Grant just smiled before turning to Webster. “You wouldn’t have any interest in coming along to the airport with me later to pick up Joe, would you?”

 

Webster smiled. “I think I can make some time for that.”

 

“Great,” Grant said. “Don’t go to dinner; we’ll pick him up and grab food on the way back.”

 

Webster nodded and took off after Hoob. He was almost there when he noticed Roe sitting on the porch of cabin three.

 

“I thought you and Babe would be off somewhere by now,” Webster said.

 

Roe shrugged. “Babe is giving the grand tour; we got a new kid. His name is Julian and he’s quite taken with Babe.”

 

“And you wouldn’t know anything about that,” Webster said, leaning on the railing of the cabin porch.

 

Roe smiled. “So where is Joe? I saw Hoob already.”

 

“His flight’s delayed, so he’ll be in a mood when he gets here,” Webster said.

 

“I’m sure you’ll sort him out,” Roe said.

 

Webster smiled. “I’ll do what I can. You guys still want to boat dock this year?”

 

Roe nodded. “You guys gonna take the swim dock?”

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Webster said as he headed in the direction of four.  When he got there, the screen door was propped open and Hoob was sitting on his bed putting Mac together.

 

“Do you think I can hit those flags from here?” Hoob asked by way of greeting.

 

Webster turned back around to take in the flags that were roping off the picnic table era for dinner that night.  They were maybe a cabin length away. “Sure you can,” Webster said. “You know you can.” And then it dawned on Webster what Hoob was thinking. “Is that how your plan to bring our first year in line? Fire power?”

 

“Can you think of a better way?” Hoob said as he got down on the floor to start setting up the gun.

 

“I see someone attended the Ronald Speirs leadership seminar,” Webster said as he opened his duffel and started pulling out his stuff.

 

“He’s actually got it all distilled into a very helpful pamphlet.” Hoob said as he looked down the sight of the gun.

 

“He would,” Webster said, smiling. Webster was about to open his footlocker when he heard their first year coming up the step. Webster ignored him and continued to unpack. This was Hoob’s show now and Webster was going to let him run it.

 

“So who's in charge of this bullshit?” the boy said as he entered the cabin.

 

“That would be me,” Hoob said without getting up. “And you’re blocking my fuckin’ shot.”

 

The boy moved out of the doorway, clearly just noticing Hoob. His eyes were wide and even Webster had to admit that Hoob looked pretty impressive. Hoob lined himself back up and took a deep breath before he took his shot. The paintball hit the flag right where it met the rope, dead center.

 

“Woah,” the kid said, staring out of the cabin. “Can you do that again?”

 

“Right or left?” Hoob asked.

 

“What?” the kid asked.

 

“The flag on the right or the left?” Hoob clarified.

 

“Left,” the boy asked.

 

Another deep breath and Hoob repeated the action on the flag to the left.

 

“Wow, you’re awesome,” the boy said.

 

“I’m Donald Hoobler, you can call me Hoob,” Hoob said, getting up and holding his hand out for the kid to shake.

 

“James Alley,” the kid said, shaking Hoob’s hand.

 

“Well Alley, welcome to cabin four,” Hoob said. “This is Web.”

 

“Hi,” Webster said.

 

Alley nodded in Webster’s direction, but his eyes returned to Mac rather quickly.

 

“His boyfriend Lieb is going to get here later. His flight was delayed, but something tells me the two of you will get along just fine,” Hoob said.

 

“Can you teach me how to shoot?” Alley asked, pointing at Mac.

 

“Sure,” Hoob said, leading Alley over to Grant’s old bed. “Unpack your stuff and we’ll take the gun up to the archery range.”

 

It was weird watching someone else unpack their things into what Webster had come to think of as Grant’s locker. Logically, Webster knew that Grant was just down the row of cabins and that even if he wasn’t, his friendship with Grant would be one he carried with him for the rest of his life. It still felt like a loss, like a milestone they weren’t quite ready for.  They had seniority now and Webster had no clue what to do with it. At the same time, Webster knew Hoob was right. Alley was going to fit in just fine.

 

*~*

 

When Joe cleared the terminal doors, he saw a gray van sitting in front of the terminal, Grant sitting behind steering wheel. He had the passenger window rolled down.

 

“Hey Lieb. Throw your stuff in the side there,” Grant said out the open window.

 

Joe nodded and when he opened the passenger sliding door, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at seeing Web sitting in the back seat.

 

“Need some help with that?” Web asked as he smiled back at Joe.

 

“I got it,” Joe said as he climbed in the van and guided his bag so that it fell over the bench seat and into the back.  With that done, he turned to Web and crowded him against the window behind him before he pulled Web in and kissed him. It had hardly been a month since the last time he’d gotten to do this, but he still missed it. He hoped he never got used to it, that even when he had the opportunity to do it every day, that he’d still feel just like this. He’d just gotten his tongue in Web’s mouth, sliding it along Web’s, when Grant cleared his throat.  

 

“Not to interrupt or anything, but where do you want to eat dinner?” Grant said.

 

Joe pulled back and noticed that Web’s face was bright red. He ignored that in favor of answering Grant. “Somewhere where I can get a really greasy bacon cheeseburger.”

 

“Not even twelve hours away from your mother and you are already back on the pork,” Grant said. They settled on a Five Guys. Joe moaned the loss of In and Out, Grant agreed and when Webster admitted to not knowing what that was, plans were hatched for Webster’s fall break. The ride to camp was pretty uneventful. They talked about school, teased Grant about his boyfriend, and laughed over how Hoob had won over the new kid. Web’s head ended up on Joe’s shoulder, their fingers interlaced over Joe’s knee.

 

When they pulled into the camp parking lot, Grant turned in his seat to look at them. “I’m going back to my cabin. I don’t know where you two are going. I don’t want to know where you two are going. But if you get caught, I walked you guys back to your cabin.”

 

“All the way to the door,” Joe agreed. The three of them piled out of the van and Grant headed in one direction and Joe lead Web off in the other. They ended up pressed against the wall of the multi-purpose building, Joe’s duffel dropped beside them.  

 

“Fuck, I missed you,” Joe said with his hands under Web’s shirt, panting against Web’s lips.

 

Web smiled. “Missed you too.”

 

“Did you?” Joe asked, even though he knew the answer.

 

“You know I did,” Web replied, turning their position so that Joe was the one leaning against the wall before sinking to his knees and setting to work opening Joe’s pants.

 

“Christ,” Joe swore, because this was yet another thing about Web that was never going to get old. No matter how many times Joe saw Web on his knees in front of him, it was always going to make his breath catch. It was always going to make him want to run his fingers through Web’s hair, catch his fingers in those curls, and pull just to feel the vibration of Web’s moan around his dick. Nothing would ever be able to compare to the warm, wet heat of Web’s mouth.

 

“Jesus,” Joe swore again, his fingers pulling Web’s hair.

 

Web’s eyes danced with a smile as he reached up to cradle Joe’s balls. Joe gasped and his hips rocked forward.

 

“Shit, sorry,” Joe apologized.

 

Web wasn’t deterred. His tongue traced the veins of Joe’s dick as one deft finger reached back to press against Joe’s hole. At the introduction of the dueling sensations, Joe came hard down Web’s throat with a strangled gasp.  

 

“Oh Christ,” Joe swore as Web straightened up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Joe’s hands fisted in Web’s t-shirt and he used the leverage to turn them and push Web back against the building.  Joe pulled back a bit and started in on the fly of Webster’s shorts, slipping his hand inside Web’s boxers. “Later,” Joe said while he started to slide his hand along Web’s dick. “Later we’ll go somewhere more private. I’ll spread you out and we’ll do this right. But fuck, right now…”

 

“Yeah,” Web agreed as he pulled Joe forward into a kiss, his teeth scraped Joe’s lip as he did so. This kiss was rough. This kiss was tongue, teeth, and desire to claim all that the other person was and take it for yourself. Meanwhile, Joe set a furious rhythm, working Webster to a climax. Web’s hands gripped Joe’s shoulders, his fingers pressing in hard enough that there would be bruises later, dotted along Joe’s shoulder blades.

 

“Ah fuck,” Web gasped, his head rolling backwards against the wall behind him. Joe set his mouth on Web’s neck, sucking and biting the skin there. He knew he’d leave a mark too; Web’s fair skin marked up at the slightest touch of teeth. So he knew there would be purple spots on Web’s neck in the morning, but fuck if he cared. Web was his and if the whole camp knew it, it would save a lot of time. And that’s how Webster came, with Joe’s lips sucking on his neck and Joe’s hand in his pants.

 

Joe rubbed his nose along Webster’s as he panted for breath. Web looked at ease; the tension drained from his shoulders, no longer clinging to his frame. Not for the first time, Joe wished that he were always able to do that for Web.

 

“What?” Web asked, his fingers tracing Joe’s jaw line.

 

It figured that Joe’s worry was written all over his face, or maybe he just couldn’t get anything past Web anymore. “I worry about you.”

 

To his credit, Web didn’t brush it off. “I’m ok now.”

 

“But you weren’t,” Joe said as he nuzzled his nose against Web’s. “You made yourself sick.”

 

“I know,” Web said, his fingers squeezing Joe’s shoulders again. “It’ll be easier next year, just one more school year and I’m all yours.”

 

“And I’m never letting you go,” Joe said before he pulled Web into another kiss.

 

It was just a matter of time now and the distance would close. In one more school year. In one more summer. And then it would be all for them, no distance between them at all. A future stretched out in front of them, theirs for the taking. Theirs to do with as they chose.

 

Theirs to figure out.

  
Berkeley or bust.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again this fic was brought to by the faithful work of my beta gilove2dance. I couldn't have come back to our vers without her. She's also made a [cover](http://dollydagger87.tumblr.com/post/142981099334/title-a-lesson-in-distance-romantics-rating) for this fic.


End file.
